


Full Circle

by The_White_Rabbit42



Category: Supernatural
Genre: A whole lot of ways to call someone a dick, Elements of panic attacks, F/M, IT WAS SUPPOSED TO BE SISTER!WINCHESTER AS THE READER, NOT A SISTER READER, Plot Twists, Sarcasm, Snark, THERE'S NO INCEST HERE I SWEAR, Violence, Which is my way of saying not everything will be tagged, but there is angst
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-06-20
Updated: 2018-09-14
Packaged: 2018-11-16 09:49:45
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 7
Words: 46,295
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11250645
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/The_White_Rabbit42/pseuds/The_White_Rabbit42
Summary: When a strange occurrence leads you back to Indiana, you find the past becomes resurrected along with a certain archangel.  Unfortunately, you both become caught up in something bigger than you expected.  Takes place between Seasons 5 and 6.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> If you're getting a sense of deja-vu right now, you're not crazy. This was originally posted under Stealth_Nugget to meet a deadline while I was caught in the new account queue. Instead of just copying and reposting it to my account, I decided to address some things I wasn't happy with the first time around and do a rewrite. This first chapter, in particular, always felt like it fell flat to me. I am much happier with this version (and hope you will be too). 
> 
> Sincerest apologies to all of you who had this bookmarked. I hope you all especially enjoy the new version of this (and the final chapter is coming, I swear!).
> 
> When this story was originally written, it included prompts from January’s Gabriel Monthly Challenge. They will still be bolded (as they are not my words).
> 
> Dialogue prompt: “One day you and I are gonna wake up and be alright. Maybe not today, maybe not tomorrow, but one day. I promise you.”

 

You cracked open a beer, the sound breaking through a silence that was as deafening as it was empty.  The contents spilled past your lips, the cold brew comforting, and the familiarity that sang softly beneath the taste was as bitter as it was sweet.  It was also addicting, and by the time you lowered it, the bottle was considerably lighter.  

 

Not that _that_ was anything out of the ordinary; you were a Winchester, after all.  

 

Your eyes drifted over the old and peeling wallpaper as you tried to shake the weight of the past that pushed persistently against your heart and mind.  You couldn’t help but think things weren’t supposed to turn out this way.  Then again, no one ever wanted to believe most of their friends and family were supposed to have met terrible fates or that they were supposed to likely live the majority of their life alone.  

 

Hell, you thought being a twin meant _never_ having to be alone.  There was never a moment in your life when Dean wasn’t there, and it had never crossed your mind there could be a time when he wouldn’t.  You knew he felt the same, though he, being the eldest, had actually existed without you once.

 

“The only five minutes of peace I’ve ever had,” he liked to joke, to which you’d respond, “At least you’ve known what peace is like.”

 

He had been so much more than just a brother.  He had been your partner in crime, and wherever one of you was, the other was never far behind.  At least, that’s how it started.  It became clear you had never been destined to stay that way.  Fate had pushed against the foundation of your relationship, creating cracks within the weaker points so that when the storm fully hit, it couldn’t help but take on water.  

 

Surprisingly, your mother’s death was just the the low rumbling of thunder in the distance.  The deluge that forced both your heads beneath an unexpected flood was when you lost your father.  It wasn’t when he physically passed.  His death, in some ways, had mended fences you and Dean hadn’t realized were still broken.  It was when your father lost himself to his grief, when he devoted every moment to his newfound cause, and when he expected Dean to be the one to hold it all together, that your brother began to drift away.

 

It was a terribly unfair burden, one that forced Dean to grow up faster than he should have.  You and Sam, on the other hand, had some leeway to still be kids, or as much of ones as possible, given the circumstances.  What really solidified the rift was when “The General” began to take Dean on hunts with him, but insisted you stayed behind.

 

You knew it had nothing to do with whether or not you were ready.  You were just as strong, just as capable, if not more so because you always had to work that much harder to gain half as much of the man’s approval.  What it really came down to was John’s own feelings of failure regarding your mother.

 

It didn’t matter that you looked more like the Winchester side of the family.  Past bled over into present, blurring vision enough so that when he drank, he never failed to voice how much you reminded him of her.  He resented you for it, and so long as the yellow-eyed demon lived, he would continue to do so.

 

Where once it had been you and Dean, now you and Sam were side by side, hitting the books for school or research, eating dinner out of a can, and watching movies on the old motel room TVs.  Sam had been the one to pick up the pieces when some boy broke your heart.  He was the one that cheered you up when you were some place long enough for prom to be an option, but no one else actually considered you for it.

 

He was the only one you could even tell _that_ secret to.  

 

Then there was the whole matter of when you turned eighteen.  You’d had enough of the drunken rages, the ever closing box, as John grappled to maintain absolute control over you.  Your own anger had blossomed over the years into fiery embers that became stoked with every additional burden placed upon you or your brothers.  You were so ready to be done with it, but you stayed because you didn’t want to leave Sam to deal with things on his own.

 

The day you looked into John’s eyes and saw your own desperation and anger staring back was the day you decided that you needed to leave.

 

You waited for the man to drink himself to sleep before packing up your things and slipping out into the night.  Sam, of course, expected it.  He knew you too well for you to be able to hide anything anymore.  Dean, on the other hand, was shocked, furious, betrayal glinting hard in the darks of his eyes, and jaw clenched so tight you might have heard a few of his teeth cracking.

 

To his credit, he didn’t raise the alarm, but he had been salty enough to ignore your calls for the next few months.    

 

You weren’t thrilled about it, but you got it.  It would have been easier if you had gone for normal like Sam eventually did, choosing college and a nine-to-five existence over hunting.  They would’ve still been angry, but your reasoning would have been you wanted a different life instead of your _own_.

 

You weren’t sure what they expected, however, when their personalities lent themselves to nicknames such as Commander Drunk of dick company and his dutiful second, Captain Asshat.  

 

Not that you ever dared call John that to his face.

 

They’d tried to lure you back by asking for help on cases.  Thankfully, you were usually occupied with  your own.  As time passed, however, you found memories and sentiments softened the edge of the toxic trainwreck that the man your mother married had become.  More than anything, you found you missed your brothers’ company and, in rare moments, you even missed your dad.

 

Then you’d join them on a hunt and would be painfully  reminded why you left in the first place the moment your father opened his mouth.  A few times all he had to do was look at you, and you headed right back out the door, even if you’d just arrived.  

 

When all was said and done, your relationship with Dean held on, but the one you had with Sam had become stronger.   It wasn’t intended, but destiny hadn't left you with much of a choice.

 

Rather, the heavenly choir of divine douchebags hadn't, and they were lucky you hadn't started hunting them the moment Lucifer was locked back up.

 

Not that that would really help.  You couldn’t change where you, Dean, or even Sam had ended up; you could only choose where you were headed.  You could have stayed and tried to make things better, but the thought of trying to bond with Dean because he was all you had left hurt too much to even be an option.  

 

You thought back to the last words he said to you.  Despite feeling just as broken and beaten as you did, he was doing everything in his power to hold it together, which meant being far more optimistic than you’d ever known him to be.       

 

**“One day you and I are gonna wake up and be alright. Maybe not today, maybe not tomorrow, but one day. I promise you,”** he’d told you, and you almost believed it.   _Almost_.  Just as he knew you well enough to know hope was what you needed, you knew him well enough to realize the kind he offered didn’t come overnight.

 

For some, it didn’t come at all.

 

What were you supposed to do in the meantime?  Sit around and watch your brother play house while Sam sat in a cage with what had to be the two most pissed off beings in creation?  Good for Dean if that was what he wanted.  Really.  If anyone deserved to be happy, it was him, but the jury was still out on whether or not that was true of you.  

 

Deep down, you knew you weren’t ready to give up hunting anymore than you were ready to give up on Sam.  This was your life. This was in your blood, and if there was anything John had taught you, it was that family was everything, even if he was shit at showing it until the end.  

 

Then there was the matter of you being able to rein in your mouth.  Painful as it was, you had managed to hold in the snark, mostly for Dean’s sake.  However, if you had to go to one more BBQ and hear how hard it was to be normal, you were going to tell Dale Johnson how curious it was that his son looked more and more like Steve Hargrove every day.  

 

It wasn’t true, but that wouldn’t stop you from reveling in the look on his face or watching their simple little world go up in flames.  

 

That’s when you decided skipping out in the middle of the night might be best for everyone.  

 

This time you knew Dean wouldn’t hold it against you.  Goodbyes were about as much his forte as they were yours, and after living the apocalypse like it was one long, extended farewell tour for your family, you were both tired of the entire concept.  

 

Besides, it wasn't like you were cutting him out of your life completely.  

 

You both occasionally texted to check in, but you hadn’t spoken since the night he told you it was going to be ok.  It was easier that way, not just for you.  Besides, you wanted some clear separation between your lives to ensure Dean had a fair chance and making it in his new one.    

 

Since then, you spent your time jumping from one case to the next, slowing down only long enough to find anything and everything you could on Lucifer’s cage. As weeks turned into months, however, your frustration began to fray, the harried threads weaving back together as desperation when all you found were false leads and dead ends.  Your best resource (and probably only remaining friend) had disappeared the moment he’d seen you and Dean safely to Lisa’s.  

 

You’d lost track of how many times you’d prayed to Cas only to receive no response.  

 

When you thought about his silence, anger burned brightly against the backdrop of darker sentiments, threatening to spill over the border into fury at the ever growing sense of betrayal.  Maybe you weren’t as close as you’d thought.  Maybe he’d had better things to do.  Maybe it was because you were the wrong Winchester.  

 

A more logical, though far less pleasant thought, was that he was simply dead.

 

You found it much easier to be pissed and indignant rather than try to make room for anymore grief in your life.

 

You hadn’t given up praying to him, but you learned to limit it in the interest of managing your disappointment.   At the moment, things weren’t great, but they could be far worse.  Perhaps you could afford to risk a little.  

 

Considering you hadn’t had a case in days and your leads on the cage had just run dry, you were ready to try just about anything if it meant getting out of this day long limbo in which you sat.  You needed to go somewhere.   _Anywhere_.  Preferably before you went insane.

 

_Dearest Castiel, angel of the lord, and former BFF to us Winchesters.  Why hast thou forsaken me in my time of need?  Whereth doth thy feathered ass roam?  Because I could really use some guidance down here.  Like yesterday_.  

 

Baiting the only divine connection you had probably wasn’t the brightest idea, but there weren’t many who would call you smart these days.  Clever.  Sarcastic.  Infuriating (if one were to believe Dean).  Completely on the wrong side of sane (courtesy of Bobby), and having the smallest sense of self-preservation in existence (that one had been Gabriel’s), but using your intelligence for something _other_ than messing with people or pulling you all back from the brink of sudden and impending doom?  Not as high on your priority list as it should be.

 

You jumped, nearly falling backward in your chair as static burst through the silence.  Your eyes swung to the TV across the room as it flared to life, faded color inking around the edges of what looked to be a low budget news program.

 

_A local power outage has officials across Randolph County baffled.  Around 7pm this evening, the entire county lost power after an unexplainable surge in the system.  Many are still in the dark, but the power companies have already deployed technicians to fix the problem.  The source of the surge continues to remain a mystery._

 

You flipped open Sam’s laptop, typing in the county name within the search bar.  Your brows drew together when it only pulled up the town of Randolph.  Another quick search indicated there was no Randolph County anywhere in the state.

 

_And now on to the weather…_

 

Your eyes drifted up to find what looked like a map of the Great Lakes region.  It showed the radar ( _snow snow snow_ the weatherman announced in a tone that suggested he had far too few hobbies outside of his profession) before zooming in closer on one state in particular.  

 

How the hell the local news for Indiana was playing in Massachusetts was beyond you.  Unless...

  

“Cas, that you?” You asked, eyes scanning the room before drifting upward.  The TV shut off again and the sudden silence left you feeling a little uneasy.  If it was your friend, why wouldn’t he just appear and talk to you?

 

“Think you can patch me up before sending me back out?”  You continued.  It was more of a test than anything.  You had a few scrapes and bruises leftover from your last case and one hell of a split lip.  Nothing you couldn’t handle, though it was also nothing Cas would’ve batted an eye at if he were only doing one of his drive by interventions.  

 

You cast a few more glances around the room before turning your attention back to the computer.  As soon as you changed the state to Indiana, up popped a county map in the right hand corner of the screen.  You let out a snort when you found out the Sheriff’s office was located in the town of Winchester.  

 

_There’s a joke in there somewhere_ you mused.

 

Your eyes landed on the cheap, plastic alarm clock next to the bed.  It was almost eleven.  If you were lucky, you’d roll into town early enough to catch a nap and be able to drop in on the Sheriff before he went off shift.  

 

You quickly packed your things, sending a quick thanks sky high, and you felt your spirits lift a little as you found yourself on the road once again.  

 

***

 

The world was one thing, and one thing only: _pain_ \-- pure, potent, rupturing viscerally through your system in a never ending stream of molten magma.   It was unlike anything you’d ever experienced, as if the gossamer threads to your very being were ripping open, siphoning the contents of your soul onto the tangled covers around you, and leaving a white-hot searing sensation in its wake.  You were aware, on some level, that this had to be a dream, but no night vision had ever felt so terrible or so real.  

 

You weren’t sure how long it lasted, only that you weren’t able to shake free from this nightmare.  It became clear your suffering was in control, and only when the torment began to ease was your mind able to claw its way back from unconsciousness.   

 

You woke with a start, panic forcing your eyes open wide.  You gasped for air, your chest burning from the lack of it.  Blackness clouded the edge of your vision, and the world gave a dangerous tilt beneath you.

 

If you didn’t do something quickly, you were going to lose yourself to something different but equally as overwhelming.

 

You forced yourself to focus on the heavy hammering of your heart against your ribs, latching on to how the sound of it drowned out nearly everything else.  You became aware of the pressure of your grip, the feel of the comforter clutched tightly in your hand.  There was a sharp chill that lingered around the fire in your chest, creating ripples of goosebumps along the exposed flesh of your arms.  Your hands grasped at your stomach, the fiery center of all the torment you’d experienced.  The area itself was ice cold, though the lingering embers of your agony had yet to fully cool.

 

The more you paid attention to the physical sensations, the more you sank back into your body, and eventually the ground stilled beneath you once more.

 

Nightmares were a common occurrence.  If you weren’t being ripped apart in your dreams, then you were either watching your loved ones get torn to shreds or revisiting your failures: Sam, Jo, Ellen, random people you and your brothers had been unable to save in time, and, on occasion, even your father (though he was just as likely to _be_ the nightmare rather than just part of it).  

 

Afterward, something always lingered.  Memories and visions blurred lines with reality in a way that had you throwing yourself into case after case in order to stay tethered to what was real.  This time, however, there was nothing left behind.  Not a single image still flashed before your eyes.  Clips of sound did not continue to chatter in background of your mind.  There were no emotions crowding the edge of awareness.  Nothing, save the echoes of that awful agony, remained.

 

_Something_ tugged at you, however, but whatever it was came from somewhere much deeper, much more intrinsic.  It pushed its way up from the darkness, bubbling up into your consciousness, and as it forced its way into your mind, you felt the world stand still around you.

 

“Gabriel,” you breathed, grief seeping into the spaces where the burning once resided.  It was like an echo of him lingered within you, and all you recalled of him, all the sentiments you worked so hard to pack away came leaping to life in response.  How deceptively slight his vessel looked, yet how powerful his presence could be.  The glint of fun-loving chaos ever sparking in those gold splashed green eyes.  The extra glimmer of light the world seemed to have when he appeared, and how everything seemed to have dimmed now that he was gone.

 

The fact that it was your fault he was gone to begin with.

 

You had been trying so hard not to think about him.  You had may not have made peace with the deaths you and your family left in their wake, but you had managed to lay your friends to rest one by one.  Gabriel was one of the few who refused to remained buried.  

 

Though today it felt more like he had come crash landing back into existence.    

 

Any other day, you’d tell yourself it was just a dream and move on.  Any other day, your weird-o-meter wouldn’t be hitting a solid eleven on a ten point scale.  

You glanced at the clock beside you.  Tiredness clung to already weary eyes, causing the glaring red numbers to grow blurry.  You’d only been asleep an hour, but there was no point in trying to go back to sleep.  You were too on edge, the past pushing too close to the present, and if you didn’t give your mind something else to focus on, you’d simply go back down the path you’d spent so long finding a way out from.

 

You threw your legs over the side of the bed, pausing to scrub at your face before standing, unaware of the pair of eyes that watched intently from across the room.  

 

***

 

You had barely made it through the door at the Sheriff’s office when the receptionist had pegged you for FBI.  When you confirmed, she merely pointed down the hall and told you to wait in the first room on the right.  That had been over a half hour ago.  

 

There were a number of reasons why the Sheriff needed to get the lead out of his ass.  One, you did not like small spaces.  They made you feel caged and a caged Winchester was not a pretty sight.  Two, your patience was running pretty thin these days, so _waiting_ was not often recognized in your vocabulary.  Three, you’d already spent over twelve hours in the car without much to keep your thoughts grounded and were in desperate need of something onto which they could grasp.  Four, you really _really_ didn’t like small spaces.  

 

Hurried footsteps sounded down the hall, increasing in volume as they approached.  You knew that stride.  It was all purpose and unless you happened to be bleeding out, you really didn’t want to be on the receiving end of those.  You expected it to be for another room and froze when the door to yours abruptly swung open.  

 

“I don’t understand the bureau’s damn fascination with the place, but here.  Do what you need to do.  I’ve got other cases that need my attention,” a man informed you, tone clipped as he flopped a file down on the end of the table.   He had what you referred to as the trifecta: he was taller than you, older than you, and most importantly, he didn't remind you of any of your past failures.  

 

The rest of the details really didn’t matter.  

 

“I’m… here about the unusual power surge,” you quirked a brow, unsure what else to do with the unceremonious entrance.  “Unless you’ve noticed anything else strange going on.”

 

“Other than the FBI showing up over a power surge?”  He raised a brow right back at you in challenge.  You bit back a smile.  You thought the streaks of grey at his temple were an added bonus, but that sass had your curiosity piqued.  

 

“Look, I’m all for professional courtesy, but you’re the seventh agent in as many months that has come sniffing around for cold spots, things moving on their own, gravitational fluxes…” he spouted, gesturing with his arm as he listed each off, his incredulity growing to a tipping point.  “Gravitational fluxes?  Do you people think just because we’re a small town that we’re all backwater idiots? What are you really after?”

 

Apparently Winchester, Indiana had a supernatural draw.  You couldn’t help but wonder if this was a punchline to some cosmic joke.  You smirked, though the gesture was short-lived, as you wished you had someone else with you to appreciate the irony.

 

An ache settled deep within your chest, and you now found yourself doing your best not to frown.  Dean would have had some smartass remark to toss back by now.  Sam would have been trying to smooth things over.   You, well, you would have been sizing up your target so you knew whether to pull out a manipulation, distraction, or a good old-fashioned threat to compliment your brothers’ efforts.      

 

That lingering whisper beneath your skin continued to tug at your senses, clouding your ability to get an accurate read on him.  All you could tell was that he was too tall.  His hair was too dark.  His eyes were too blue.  

 

And you were obviously too sober.  

 

“I think we got off on the wrong foot,” you gave him your best disarming and sympathetic smile as you approached him.  “My name’s Agent Stark.  I know how this all sounds and, I really shouldn’t say anything, but someone, somewhere, is clearly interested in something here and until their curiosity is satisfied?  You might as well put in a desk for us, because every time something the tiniest bit odd happens?  We’ll be here.  Going through your files.  Talking to your men.  Canvassing the county.”

 

When all else failed, you went with what Dean had dubbed the _everything-but-the-kitchen-sink_ approach and hoped some part of your message was enough to connect.  The man took a moment to consider your words before letting out a sigh, rubbing a hand over his face in defeat.  

 

“The case report is in there.  You have any questions?  Come to me.  My men are busy enough as it is,” he told you before disappearing back out the door.

 

You bit your lip, chewing thoughtfully.  You weren’t sure what to make of everything.  The area was relatively small and completely off your radar.  Whatever was drawing hunters must have been a more recent phenomenon.  

 

You pulled out your phone, dialing Bobby’s number.  Maybe he had heard something about this place you and your brothers had missed.  As you idly waited for him to pick up, your free hand reached across the table, dragging the manila folder closer to you.  

 

“Bout time someone figured out how to return a phone call,” a familiar voice drawled.  Guilt blossomed between your stomach and chest, sheepishness flooding your system.  Your stare unconsciously dropped sideways as if you were face to face with a man who acted more like a father than your own had, and who certainly deserved better than to be ignored for weeks on end.  

 

Your fingers drummed nervously across the top of the file, drawing your focus to the letter written neatly across the top of it.  The words written in bold, black ink registered for the first time and your fingers froze.  Your eyes widened, the world shifting sideways beneath you again.

 

_No freaking way._

 

Bobby’s voice crackled on the fringe of your awareness, but he might as well have been speaking another language.  You couldn’t make out what he was saying, but even if you could, you needed to be able to take in air to formulate a response.  That dark cloud from your past once again loomed overhead, this time threatening to bring with it the full storm.  

 

“I gotta call you back,” you breathed, brain lurching to a stop as you hastily ended the call.  

 

You opened the file and a swell of emotions found its way to your eyes as the Elysian Fields Hotel stared back at you in black and white.  Your stomach churned, a flood of images rising to the surface.  You flipped past the photographs, your finger trailing down the police report until it stopped on an address.  

 

You weren’t certain why it was you were called here, but you were determined to figure it out.  

 


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Investigating the power surge has the past and present colliding in a place you never thought you'd be again.

 

It was no wonder your instincts had been on high alert.  Muncie, Indiana might not have been next door to Winchester, but it was in the same county.  

 

Like Gabriel, a piece of that disastrous night still lingered, consistently trying to chime in on the edge of your existence.  You’d become so accustomed to it being there it had melded into the clamoring din of emotions that rose whenever you toed the line to the past.  

 

The fact you were about to drive straight over it had snippets piercing your consciousness.

 

_ “Am I the only one wondering what a place like this is doing… in a place like this?” You finished lamely, staring up at the fluorescent blue lights that had beckoned you in from the road. You couldn’t remember the last time you saw a gas station, let alone anything worthy of a hotel this nice.   _

 

_ Then again, you also couldn’t remember the last time you could see anything past the torrents of water raining down upon the car.   _

 

_ “Are you really going to argue with a place called ‘Elysian Fields’?” Dean demanded.  He had a point.  You could already tell by how well cared for the grounds and signs were that this was guaranteed to be the nicest stop of your lives.   _

 

_ You just couldn’t shake the feeling that it was  _ too  _ nice. _

 

_ “Tell you what, if you’re so worried, we’ll go check it out and you can sleep here for the night,” he suggested, pulling into the spot closest to the door.  You didn’t say a word as he turned off the engine, even though it was obvious to you there shouldn’t even be any parking left this close.  The whole place should have been filled, but you knew telling him that wouldn’t make a difference.  Not when it was dinner time and there were at least three states between him and his last meal. _

 

_ He turned, eyes drifting conspicuously between you, to Sam, and back again, before his lips curled up into a sly smile. _

 

_ You knew that look.  It often preceded him doing something that made you wonder if murdering him would be an extra special sin because he was your twin, or if it still fell under ordinary fratricide.   _

 

_ “Last one out grabs the bags!”  He announced before bolting from the vehicle.   _

 

_ You resisted the urge to roll your eyes.  Clearly, the five minutes he had on you had not given him a leg up in the maturity department.   _

 

_ Sam’s gaze met yours in the mirror, a burgeoning apology flashing through them.  You glared.  No freaking way was he about to do what you thought he was going to.  _

 

_ Before you could say “death wish” he, too, was making a break toward the hotel entrance.   _

 

Now if you had pulled up to  _ this _ building nearly a year ago, you would have been more apt to walk inside.  

 

You didn't expect to find the place lit up, but you also didn't expect it to look so run down.  Storms had hit the area hard, leaving some damage around the outer edge of the structure.  The tubing for both signs had been blown out, shards of glass glinting in the fading sunlight.  A few of the sign panels attached to the building were missing, looking as if they’d been ripped clean off, though the one that flagged the hotel from the road was still intact. 

 

You pulled into a familiar parking space, letting the engine idle as memories continued to leach across your vision.  

 

_ It had been nearly an hour since your brothers went inside. You still hadn’t budged from where you sat, despite Dean’s attempts to lure you in with promises of pie so heavenly it put sex to shame.  You’d almost given in, considering you couldn’t remember the last time you’d had a piece, with either vice. _

 

_ You also couldn’t recall the last time you’d had  _ any  _ peace, which is what ultimately had you resisting temptation.   _

 

_ Unfortunately, that meant remaining in the back seat of the impala which you had been stuck in for over a day now.  You couldn’t tell if that’s what had you crawling out of your skin or if you were still stuck on how this place just didn’t belong.   _

 

_ You wished you had something other than your gut to go on, something tangible that could -- _

 

_ “I’m beginning to think you absorbed all the intelligence in the womb and that’s why your brother is a walking meathead.”  You jumped, whirling toward the sudden voice to your right and the familiar figure you found lounging beside you had your hand freezing halfway to your gun.  Amber glinted with amusement, and you were too caught off guard to notice that something else flickered in your guest’s gaze.   _

 

_ “Sam, on the other hand, has no excuse,” Gabriel finished, lips twitching as he propped a languid elbow up on the back of the seat, head resting casually against a closed fist as he idly regarded you.   _

 

_ “Jesus’ burnt and buttered toast, don’t  _ do _ that!” You hissed, hand clutching at where your heart was frantically trying to burst through your chest.  If it hadn’t come as such a shock, you would have been able to feel how full the car had become just moments before he said anything.  The archangel’s presence had a way of saturating a place, and currently it was flooding the impala with the chaotic energy that often surrounded him.    _

 

_ “I like it when you talk dirty,” he said with a wink.  “But I’m afraid the foreplay will have to wait.  There might be a room full of gods and goddesses weighing the fate of your brothers as we speak.” _

 

_ Well no wonder you didn’t want to go inside.  There was a supernatural convention going on, and not the kind where you needed to be reminded putting a bullet in participants was “not helpful” and “murder.”  _

 

_ “All right,” you said taking a breath and running a hand through your hair.  You took a moment to refocus yourself, picking up the scattered pieces of information you had so far.  So there was a small gathering of deities inside, which you assumed meant nothing good for your brothers, regardless of whether they were accidentally involved or not.  You had Gabriel on your side, however, which was a solid plus.    _

 

_ “So what’s plan A?” You asked, looking to him for guidance since you assumed he at least knew some of the crowd from his time as Loki.   _

 

_ He snapped his fingers and the impala roared to life.  “You, my dear, get as far away from here as possible and let me worry about tweedledum and tweedledee in there.” _

 

_ “I’m sorry, have we met?” You asked, arching an incredulous brow.  There was no way you were leaving your brothers behind; Gabriel knew better. _

 

_ “Listen, we both know leaving your brothers unsupervised is just asking for trouble, but here’s a novel idea: how about you trust me,” he suggested, his eyes like liquid honey as they burned bright with something you couldn’t recognize.  “For once, don’t argue with everything that comes out of my mouth simply because it’s coming from a pretty face _ ,” _ he said, sliding a hand beneath his chin to highlight the area, “And continue listening to whatever small shred of self-preservation you received that the rest of your family clearly didn’t.”   _

 

_ Sarcasm colored his words, giving weight to the casual air he tried to maintain.  You were caught off guard, mostly because he was right.  You did fight him.  A lot.  Only it wasn’t entirely for the reasons he thought it was.   _

 

_ “And plan B if things go south?” You asked. _

 

_ “For you? See plan A,” he answered, as if it were the most simple concept in the world. _

 

_ “I’m not leaving them behind,” you insisted.  “So either we’re going to have a change in plans or you’re going to have to break your promise.” _

 

_ If there was one thing you had in common with the archangel, it was that neither one of you liked having your options taken away.  You’re not sure if that was why the olive branch he offered after trapping you in TV Land involved a promise to never snap you anywhere without permission again, or if it was the fact you tended to break things on him when he did.    _

 

_ “Well, someone’s getting their heart broken tonight, because Deana-rino also made me promise I’d get you out of here safely,” he informed you.  “And I have to say, that’s one of the smartest things I’ve ever heard come out of his mouth.”   _

 

_ “Don’t worry.  He’s a big boy.  He can handle the disappointment,” you said sardonically as you reached out and pulled the handle to get out of the car.  You had barely gotten the door open when Gabriel’s arm shot across you, hastily pulling it shut again.   _

 

_ Your breath hitched as his rippled across your lips, your eyes caught up in the storm in his gaze that rivaled the one outside.  The energy in the car soared as the front of his jacket brushed against yours, heat pouring across the tiny gap between your bodies.  Cas had always been a little cool to the touch, and you imagined angels were that way in general.  Then Gabriel came along, blasting that expectation, along with many others, right out of the water.  You could always feel his heat from a few feet away, but this close to you?  He was an inferno. _

 

_ “Don’t go in there,” he warned, his glib demeanor disappearing.  There was so much behind the statement you couldn’t begin to tease it all apart.  A heavy feeling formed in the pit of your stomach, and your intuition grasped at something still beyond your understanding. _

 

_ “Gabriel,” you began, licking your lips nervously, “What do you know that I don’t?” _

 

_ His brows drew together, something breaking through the intensity of his features.   _

 

_ “They’re going to summon Lucifer.”   _

 

You couldn’t remember much about the night you realized what that look had been.  It could have been any number of states in the South West that you had landed in that particular time of year.  You might have had dinner, or it could have been one of the many instances you didn’t feel like eating anything.  Lying awake, staring at faded and dingy walls, too on edge to sleep, but too exhausted to do anything other than think had become too frequent a routine until everything blended seamlessly together into one long stretch of nightly nerves and regret.  

 

The  _ moment _ it clicked, however, that was etched into your mind with vivid clarity.   

 

The chatter of a city that refused to quiet even well into the night.  The warm breeze wafting through yellowed curtains, bringing with it the lingering smell of old tobacco and cheap air fresheners.  The fact you were alone, for once, handling one in a never ending number of cases so your brothers could focus on getting the keys to the cage.  

 

All those little details became locked into your mind the second you realize Gabriel had been afraid.  That in and of itself was a revelation.  You wouldn’t have thought that sentiment existed within his repertoire (or any archangel’s for that matter).  Though what made it so memorable was the fact the angel hadn’t been scared  _ of  _ anyone.  He had been scared  _ for  _ you.  

 

You scrubbed a hand over your face, refocusing on the building in front of you.  You killed the engine, your hand lingering on the door as doubts spilled through the large gaping holes in the puzzle you were facing.  Were you actually being directed here or was it your own desire to put the past to rest causing you to see connections among coincidences?   What  _ were  _ you even looking for in either case?  There was nothing here for you other than ghosts, and they weren’t even the kind you could gank.  

 

Not that you hadn’t tried.    

 

_ Dean burst through the front door, and in the blink of an eye, Gabriel was back on the other side of the car.  While your relief was more palpable, amusement sparked as you couldn’t help but be reminded of a similar experience.  You were sixteen and had snuck out to meet Tony DeMarco, the resident bad boy from the latest school you were at.  Dean had caught you both in the backseat of the kid’s beater and the moment Tony saw the look on your brother’s face, it was over.  Less because your brother had arrived, and more because you soon found out that a jellyfish had a better chance at developing a backbone than your date did.   _

 

_ Though you imagined Gabriel’s was sturdy enough so  _ he _ wasn’t in need of a fresh pair of pants.       _

 

_ The smirk fell from your mouth the moment you saw the line of people that came rushing out behind your brother.   _

 

_ “Psst! Dean! Don’t look at me! Act natural.  Get in,” Gabriel half-whispered, half shouted out the window. _

 

_ “Man there is nothing natural about this at all.  I thought you were dead,” Dean fired back, looking like he had the worst case of mental whiplash.   _

 

_ You paused, eyes settling back on the angel with accusation.  Apparently someone had left out a few important details.  Like the number of  _ other  _ people trapped inside or the fact that someone had tried to kill him already. _

 

_ Then again, with how often you wanted to put a blade in him, that shouldn’t have come as a surprise. _

 

_ “You think I’d give Kali my real sword? That thing can kill me!”  Gabriel insisted. _

 

_ You shook your head as you watched your brother and the angel go back and forth.  It wasn’t like there was a situation inside that Sam was clearly still a part of, judging by his absence.  But they should go right ahead and argue the finer points of whether or not Gabriel gave a shit about anyone else.   _

 

_ Spoiler alert: he clearly did if he was sitting in the backseat of the Impala instead of sitting on a sipping beach in Maui while being served fruity beverages by scantily clad women in hula skirts.   _

 

_ “... I can’t kill my brother,” Gabriel insisted and despite the cynical mask he wore, something around the rim of gold tugged at your chest.  Like earlier, Dean seemed oblivious to the signs that maybe, just maybe, the archangel wasn’t as much of an ass as everyone thought he was.   _

 

_ “Would you two cut it out so we can figure out an actual plan?” You demanded, folding your arms over your chest.  You must have been sitting outside Dean’s line of vision by how fast his head swung around.  His eyes widened in surprise a moment before igniting with his anger.   _

 

_ “What the hell is she still doing here?  You had  _ one _ job, Gabriel…”  Dean snapped before pointing at you.  “You, get out of here.  You,” he swung his finger to the archangel.  “Make sure she does, and then maybe you could sack up and help us take down Lucifer… if it’s not too much to ask,” he sassed, before jumping back out of the car and storming inside. _

 

The glass panels on the front entrance had been smashed, no doubt the work of one of the previous hunters.  Since then, the gaps had been boarded up only to have someone else come along and cut a hole in it, big enough for someone to reach in and undo the deadbolt.  At one point two separate set of chains had been used to lock it, the remnants of which lay strewn across the ground.  One set was older and rusted, the other much newer and still retained some of its silver coloring.  

 

You pushed at the handle, noting the way it swung open with ease, though it wasn’t that surprising to find that the sheriff’s department had simply given up trying to keep it secure.  

 

Your phone buzzed angrily, causing you to pause for a moment in the threshold.  You knew you should return Bobby’s calls.  At least shoot him a text to say you weren’t about to be eaten by anything (that you knew of).  Yet you found you couldn’t resist heading through the door anymore than you could before.  At least then you were committed to helping your brothers.  

 

Now, you probably just needed to be committed. 

 

_ “You sure you want to do this?” Gabriel asked as you stepped into the front lobby. “You’re the only one not caught in Kali’s blood spell…” _

 

_ “Which makes me the best candidate to go and get said blood,” you reminded him, silently closing the door behind you.   _

 

_ “Normally, I wouldn’t underestimate your abilities but… I’m not sure Kali swings that way,” he deadpanned, carefully eyeing around the corner before motioning the coast was clear.  “And by ‘that way’ I mean human.  Unless, of course, you're offering to be the hors d'oeuvres.” _

 

_ “Why is operation honeypot the only plan on your mind?” You demanded.  You knew he had sex on the brain more than the average being, but it never seemed to leak this much into his logic.   _

 

_ “Because sex and destruction are the two things she thinks most about?”  He retorted. _

 

_ “And what makes you the expert on her?” You continued, taking the lead.  His sudden silence did not bode well, and you froze.  You turned, fully expecting to be hip deep in entities who were not thrilled to find Gabriel re-crashing the party, extra guest in tow.  The only thing there, however, was an archangel who seemed awfully intent on looking anywhere - to the side, down the hall, over your head - but you. _

 

_ “There something I should know?” You leveled an even gaze at him as he, very casually, stepped around you.   _

 

_ “Oh, nothing, other than… we may have been a thing at one point.”  He gave a nonchalant  shrug as if he’d just informed you they’d gone to the same school rather than he hooked up with an entity known as “The Destroyer.”    _

 

_ “Do all your exes try to kill you or just the really special ones?”  Your defenses snapped into place in the form of your humor.  It didn't necessarily bother you to talk about how he’d dated someone.  You’d probably be more worried if he hadn’t had any exes considering his extensive existence.  It was the _ what _ that got beneath your skin.   _

 

_ Why you were surprised that goddesses were his thing, you’d never know.  It  _ was  _ Gabriel.  The angel likely had a harem of nymphs on retainer to entertain him in his downtime. _

 

_ Provided those actually existed. _

 

_ “What can I say?  It’s been a slow century for all of us,” he said, gesturing with his arms as if to say  _ what can you do? _  The motion was so wide, his body swayed slightly with it, and not for the first time you were struck with just how expressive he was for coming from a lineage with such a collective stick up its ass, they wanted to let the world burn on the off chance it  _ might _ result in paradise. _

 

_ “But, sweetheart, really, I got this.  Why don’t you do yourself a favor and take a little vacation.  I could see you… somewhere tropical?  White sandy beaches, crystal waters…” he paused, brows raising as his gaze drifted lower. “An itty bitty bikini to tie it all together.”  _

 

_ He gestured exaggeratedly over the front of you and for a moment you were afraid you were going to look down and find yourself in said scrap of clothing.  When you didn’t feel a sudden breeze, you rolled your eyes.  _

 

_ “Careful, or I might start to think you actually care about me,” you warned.  He suddenly stopped, posture stiffening as he turned to look at you.  Something glinted in his gaze that had everything hardening again, but whatever it was, you didn’t have time for it.  You quickly moved around him, forging ahead without giving him the opportunity to respond.    _

 

Something crunched beneath your feet, causing you to halt your steps as you dropped the beam of your flashlight down to the carpeting.  Hundreds of shards winked back at you, stretching along the length of the hallway.  Judging by how evenly they were spread out, they could have only come from one source.  You swung your light upwards, confirming something had, indeed, blown all the light fixtures.

 

By the way a thick layer of dust covered the carpeting but not the pieces, it had happened recently.    

 

You continued forward, following a path you had walked too many times since that night.  You became caught up in the minor inaccuracies where your mind had simply filled in superfluous details, to the point you found your fingers tracing idly over dark spatters along the wall before realizing what they were.  

 

You’d been in such a rush to get out you hadn’t even noticed the mess that Lucifer made.  Kind of like now.  You were in such a hurry to move from one place to the next, though this enemy was far more difficult to outrun.  

 

Then again, how did one escape themselves?

 

All you wanted was to not have to think about the long list of people you had failed.  Some, like Gabriel, however, refused to be forgotten.

 

_ “I take back what I said earlier about you being the smart one.”  You weren’t sure if the angel was baiting you, grumbling to himself, or just making idle conversation. _

 

_ “How did she get your blood again?” You asked, smirking when he went quiet again.   _

 

_ You finally found the entrance to the stairwell, stride lengthening the last few yards.  Gabriel increased his pace, cutting in front of you at the last moment.  He held up a hand for you to wait before silently pulling the handle and cracking the door.  He leaned closer to it, head tilting in concentration.  One second passed.  Then another.  You held your breath as another few ticked by before, finally satisfied, he pushed open the door for you.   _

 

_ You ducked beneath his arm, head craning back as you stepped inside to peer up the small staircase. _

 

_ “You know, New Zealand is amazing this time of year,” he persisted, body nearly brushing yours as he stepped in behind you.  His energy was so palpable, likely from being confined in a much smaller space with him, but you also couldn’t help but notice how close he was standing.  You forced yourself to take a step forward, eyes raising to the second floor entrance. _

 

_ “I’m saving your ass too, you know,” you reminded, starting up the carpeted steps.  Technically the plan was you all rode out of Dodge together.  Or flew, in his case.   _

 

_ “Cupcake, I am the last person in need of saving,” he balked.  “If anything, you should be worrying about saving your own behind - because it would be a tragedy for the world to lose such perfection.” _

 

_ You glanced behind to find him a few steps below you, hands raised, thumbs extended and framing the area in question.  This was how the game was played and on normal day, his antics tended to amuse and flatter you.  Tonight, you were finding yourself less and less in the mood.   _

 

_ Maybe it was the prospect of going round two with the devil without a single trick up your sleeve.  Maybe it was due to Carthage having spurred your brain into a frenzied need to prioritize your life, which was one giant reminder of how sorely lacking in things like  _ relationships  _ you were.   Mostly, it was because you had no idea how in the hell were you were ever going to compete with a fucking goddess.   _

 

_ “Get a grip, Gabriel,” you said flatly.   _

 

_ “Do you take rain checks?  Because as tempting as that offer is, my hands feel a little full at the moment,” he said, cocky grin spreading wide, and when that failed to elicit the usual response, he announced, “Last one up has to let the devil in the door!”  _

 

_ Gabriel playfully bounded around you and all you could do was stare at him as he skipped up the stairwell.  His arms flew up in victory as he made it to the landing.  He began to showboat, clearly not intending to stop the ridiculous display until you joined him up there.  You tried not to give in, but it was useless.  The archangels antics were too much and as your lips tugged up at the edges, a look of triumph illuminated his face.   _

 

_ He reached out, offering his assistance for the last few steps.  Surprise slowed your reaction, and something flickered across his face at your hesitation.   _ What the hell, _ you thought, reaching forward and taking his hand.  You couldn’t tell if his touch was really as electric as it felt or if it was just your own ill-advised emotions rising up to make it feel more magical than it really was.   _

 

_ Instead of releasing you once you reached the top, his grip tightened.  He gave a tug, spinning you around and into his arms as if you two were dancing.  Your eyes widened, unsure of what was happening.   _

 

_ This wasn’t how you played the game.   _

 

_ “I’d think you’d really enjoy the Alps.  They have some of the most amazing views… but mostly I can see you enjoying the privacy.  Appreciating the quiet,” he said, voice lowering as he stared down at you.  “What do you say?”   _

 

_ You would have gone anywhere with him… except that wasn’t what he was asking you to do.  He was asking you to run.  Alone.   _

 

_ “Why do you want me to leave so badly?”  You inquired, curiosity overriding everything.   You knew his charm was just an act.  He was trying every trick in the book to get you out of there, and you hadn’t the slightest clue why.   _

 

_ “I promised your brother --” _

 

_ “Bullshit,” you cut him off, and when you saw the edge of gold growing hard, you added, “And it would be a shame to break such a distinguished nose.   _ Again _.” _

 

_ He released a puff of air through said nose, eyes glowing with amusement.  His lips turned up into a smile, one of the few you’d ever seen that didn’t have an undercurrent of sass or smugness lacing it.   _

 

_ “If you don’t know the answer to that, sweetheart, you haven’t been paying attention.” Despite the cavalier drawl, something softened in his gaze.  There was a quality about him that seemed almost sad, which didn’t fit with anything you knew about the ex-trickster. _

 

_ In that moment, he looked far more human than he’d ever seemed and far  _ far  _ more approachable.  Better yet, he was suddenly well within your reach.  _

 

_ Your lips parted, tongue darting out to wet them in a nervous gesture.  Gabriel’s eyes immediately dropped, taking in the movement.  When they looked back up amber seemed a little darker, those shadows melting away to something a little warmer in sentiment.   _

 

_ Feeling emboldened, you leaned closer.  The movement was agonizing as you made sure to give him ample time to draw back in case this was not his intent.  The hand at your waist slipped around your back, drawing the rest of you closer in tandem with your face.  You could feel his breath ghosting over your lips, warmth spreading from the contact, down through your chest.   _

 

_ At the last moment, his head turned just enough to avoid the kiss.  You blinked, confused, and suddenly feeling very foolish.   _

 

_ “It’s too late,” he breathed, everything from his voice to his muscles growing taut as he released you. That’s when you felt it.  A slow building sense of dread, a familiar, looming presence that left your insides cold.   _

 

_ Then the screams began.    _

 

You blinked, clearing your thoughts, only to find yourself standing at the entrance to the ballroom.  You hadn’t even realized you’d come this far.  You turned back, eyeing the path you’d just taken.  Walking through the darkness on complete autopilot seemed like a good way to get yourself killed.  

 

Your hand came down on the doorknob, fingers vibrating with a combination of your nerves and newfound uneasiness.  This room symbolized more than just a failure.  This was a pivotal moment during the apocalypse: the beginning of the end.

 

The room had been in the file.  You’d skimmed through the photos, stopping when you caught a glimpse of the hallway that led there. The photographer seemed fairly thorough, but it wasn’t the type of thing you wanted to see in a picture.  You needed to look at this first hand.  You’d been trying without success to shut the door on this part of your life.  Maybe coming full circle would help you seal it off for good.  

 

You took a breath, slowly releasing it before giving the doors a push. 

 

_ “Y/n, Wait!”  _

 

_ You were too caught up in that driving need to find your brothers, to get to them before the devil did and protect them, that you didn’t pick up on how odd Gabriel sounded as he called your name.  You backtracked to the main lobby where you paused, unsure of which way to go. _

 

_ By the time the archangel appeared in front of you, you were positive there was more adrenaline than blood flowing through your system.  You were too startled to even make a noise, your body stumbling back, convinced Lucifer had just popped in to give you a more personal greeting.   _

 

_ “Fuck, Gabriel!” You hissed as he grabbed your hands to prevent you from pitching backward. _

 

_ “I would love to after we take care of the elephant in the room,” he said dryly, wincing as an awful lot of  _ something  _ sounded like it was splattering down one of the adjacent hallways.  “... again, not referring to you, Ganesh.”   _

 

_ You went to take off after the noise when the he kept a firm grip over you. _

 

_ “We have to help them,” you insisted.  You could only imagine what Lucifer would do to your brothers if he caught them - what he would do to Sam to be let in.  You couldn’t let that happen.   _

 

_ “Is there anything I can say or do to change your mind?” He asked.   _

 

_ “They’re my brothers,” you reminded, desperation causing your voice to come out much softer beneath the strain of the sentiment.  “Gabriel, please…” _

 

_ You would never forget the way gold glowed with a dissonance of determination and what you later would recognize as resignation.  _

 

_ “Alright, kid.  Let’s do this,” he told you.   _

 

You let out another string of swears, squeezing the lockpicking tools hard enough in your hands to leave marks.  You couldn’t get the damn doors to budge.  You’d tried pushing, pulling, checking for deadbolts, something barring the inside, furniture, anything that would indicate why you couldn’t get it to move.  

 

When that proved fruitless, you’d done your best to pick the lock.  Well that wasn’t true.  You  _ had _ picked it, having heard the latch between them release only to find you hadn’t actually solved the problem.  The only thing you hadn’t tried was brute force which was something your brothers had always been better at than you.  

 

You stepped back, placing the end of your flashlight in your mouth before you shook your body out.  You couldn’t believe you were actually going to do this.  You were  _ terrible _ at these things.  The last time you tried, you’d fractured the right side of your foot all the way down through the end and Dean insisted on calling you  _ twinkle toes _ for two months straight. 

 

You had to try, though.  This was the last place you’d seen the angel.  Well, outside of the ridiculous guest spot he’d had in Casa Erotica, although honestly, you tried your best to forget that even existed.  It stirred up too many mixed feelings you had no intention of ever exploring.

 

_ “Are we seriously going to do this?”  You asked, watching as Sam fed the dvd into his laptop.  What you really meant was were you really going to watch it  _ together _.   _

 

_ Because nothing said family bonding like a good old fashioned porno.   _

 

_ While it didn’t surprise you this would be what Gabriel left as his legacy, it didn’t exactly please you either.  You were already coming  to terms with the realization you cared more for the angel than you should have, let alone accept the abysmal chances that you would ever see him again.   _

 

_ “We are seriously watching a fucking porno,” you muttered, your anger overshadowing any discomfort as you watched Gabriel intently feeling up some tall blonde chick who, like Kali, you couldn't hope to measure up to. Thankfully, it didn’t last long before he turned toward the camera, ripping off his mustache and revealing his intent.  _

 

_ “Sam, Dean, if you’re watching this with y/n, your family is way more dysfunctional than I’ve given you credit for.”   _

 

_ You snorted as Dean muttered, “Yeah, thanks to you, pal.” _

 

_ “Sadly, if you are all watching this, it also means I’m dead.” _

 

_ You knew it.  Part of you had spent the entire ride on edge, waiting for him to pop in and do his usual stress test on your heart, but you had felt something shortly after you’d left.  There was an unmistakable feeling that the world had grown a little smaller, as if there was suddenly a whole lot less in it. _

 

_ Your nose gave a tell tale itch.  You did your best to blink back your emotions, covering a slight sniffle by rubbing at your nose.  If your brothers noticed your reaction, they didn’t mention it.  Sam’s demeanor simply became a little more deflated while Dean stood stoically staring at the screen.   _

 

_ You did your best to focus as he shared the way to trap Lucifer.  The fact that there was a way in and of itself should have been a relief, but you were too busy trying to shut everything down.  You couldn’t afford to lose it now, not with everything that rested on all of your shoulders. _

 

_ “Can’t say I’m betting on you boys, but that sister of yours…” He turned slightly, pointing at you through the camera and winking.  “You’re something special, sweetheart.  Though the chemistry was undeniable, we just weren’t meant to be.  I was planned out to perfection while you… well, you weren’t in the plans to begin with.” _

 

_ Your brothers exchanged a look before glancing back at you.  You were too tapped out to react.  A numbness filtered through your system, and you did the only thing you were capable of at the moment and filed away what he said for later processing.   _

 

_ As if sensing this, Dean put his arm around you, drawing you into his side before turning back to the video. _

 

_ “That’s right, cupcake.  You are completely off the books.  In all this divine grand planning,  _ you _ weren’t supposed to exist and yet, here you are,” he said making a grand sweeping gesture with his hand.  “Which just goes to show you, not everything is set in stone and maybe, just maybe, you guys have more help out there than you realize.”   _

 

You slammed your foot down a final time, more in frustration than from any planned intent.  Where was your help now?  In fact, where the hell had it ever been?  Whoever or whatever was rooting for you apparently had a lag in their cosmic connection considering help only ever arrived after the fact: after Cas had been snapped to bits, after Bobby’s head had been twisted clear round his neck, after Lucifer had dropped the Impala on you, pinning you beneath the back tires so all you could do was watch as your brother’s face was turned to pulp, blow by bloody blow, as your world slowly faded to black.

 

You knew it wasn’t Sam, but it was his body and those weren’t the types of images that could simply be unseen.  You could live with them, however, because all those people were still alive. Where was your help when Jo saved your brothers from hellhounds?  When Ellen stayed behind to make sure the bomb went off?  When Gabriel was the only thing that stood between you and the devil?  

 

_ If anything is really out there, now would be a good time to step in.   _

 

You didn’t actually expect a response, but you still couldn’t help giving a final, petulant boot to the bottom of the door.  It was the failures that always got to you.  Which is why you desperately wanted to be able to bury this one.  

 

Enough to actually contemplate shooting the shit out of the locks to see if that would make any difference.

 

You were about to pull the trigger when a soft click sounded, the door furthest from you swinging open slightly.  

 

_ About freaking time.   _

 


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> As you try to put the past to rest, you find some things refuse to stay buried.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It wasn’t until I rewrote this chapter that I realized how many elements of panic attacks and ways to cope with them I’d written in (hence the tag this time). It wasn’t my original head canon but given the reader’s history, it would make sense that she wasn’t able to come out of everything fully unscathed.

 

You knew the moment you stepped through the door that something was off.  

 

Everything was alive in a way you’d never experienced before.  Particles floated across the air, vibrating with a distant, albeit distinct energy.  Instead of the room feeling charged, however, it resonated with an eerie calm, as if the entire world stood still around you.  

 

You cautiously swept your flashlight along the far wall, searching.  For what, you still weren’t sure.  The first thing you noticed was how different it was compared to the rest of the hotel.  The floor wasn’t littered with glass, debris, or dirt.  The ceiling fixtures appeared to be intact.  Not a single window had been broken, allowing soft rays of moonlight to filter in through the darkness.  

 

Wait, when had it become night?

 

You pulled out your phone, attempting to check the time when the screen flickered.  The display glitched, culminating in a scrambled mix of half letters, half numbers.  Your heart beat a little faster as they continued to jumble themselves every few seconds.

 

You suddenly wished you had called Bobby back, if for no reason other than so someone had your last known location.  

 

You glanced up uneasily, slipping your phone back into your pocket.  As your eyes adjusted to the dimness once more, you noticed something out of the corner of your eye.  You had missed it coming in, too caught up in scanning the large space to take a look at the immediate area on the floor just off to your right.  

 

As you focused on the object, you suddenly found it didn’t matter how much daylight should have been left outside.  

 

_ Please don’t be a body.  Please don’t be a body.   _

 

You swung the beam downwards and winced.  

 

Yeah.  That was definitely a body.  Normally you didn’t have a problem handling those.  Normally, they didn’t come with their identity handed to you on a silver platter, or in this case, a name tag. 

 

You had no idea what to do considering the name written across it clearly read  _ Baldur _ .  

 

Correction: you knew exactly what to do, which was to stay the hell away from it.  

 

These were the times you really wish you still had backup.  There was no way you were checking it out, not without some proper God-ganking materials.  There was also no way you were just going to leave it there to potentially reanimate in your absence and wreak havoc on the nearby towns.  

 

Which left you in quite the pickle. 

 

The hair along your arms rose, drawing your focus.  Something had snuck in around the edge of the silence, something that had tiny shockwaves rippling through that sea of calm.  It echoed along the fringe of your awareness, not quite close enough for your senses to grasp, but too close for them to ignore.  You didn’t know what made you turn, but as you shifted, so did your light, and what it illuminated had your heart lurching to a stop.  

 

A final memory, one you tried so hard to keep out, erupted, spilling over into the present and causing your throat to constrict.  

 

_ It was clear by the look on everyone’s face as you came waltzing in after Lucifer that  _ none  _ of you had a plan.  Not that winging it was anything out of the ordinary.  The amount of tension and terror electrifying the air, however,  _ that _ was new and a touch unsettling.   _

 

_ It was another reminder of just how much you were up against, and how well above your paygrade this whole thing was.   _

 

_ Gabriel took advantage of your surprise entrance, catching his brother off guard as he blasted the devil away from a woman on the floor.  He moved immediately to her side, hand grasping her arm as he pulled her to her feet.   _

 

_ “God damn it, Gabriel!” Dean hissed, and the frantic gleam within green suggested he was on the verge of losing it on the wrong archangel as his eyes bounced between the two of you. _

 

_ “Get her out of here,” Gabriel commanded, handing the woman off to your brothers, though as he spoke his eyes landed squarely on you.  Your brothers didn’t hesitate.  They hurried the woman toward you, and Sam shoved her unceremoniously through the door as Dean stopped to grab you.   _

 

_ “No,” you told him, shrugging free from his grasp.   _

 

_ “We gotta go,” Dean insisted, and when his hand closed around your arm again, it was so tight there was no breaking free this time.  Not that it stopped you from trying.  He anticipated your shove, his hands taking hold of your jacket and using it to swing you sideways.  You lost your balance, stumbling closer to the exit. _

 

_ You may not have had a plan, but you thought the part where you all got out alive  _ together _ had been implied.   _

 

_ “God damn it, Gabriel!” You shouted and the phrase sounded far, far different coming from your mouth than it had Dean’s.  Alarm sparked through your words, igniting in your eyes and stretching across the gap between you and the angel.  It reflected in his features, drawing forth that sad smile he’d given you earlier, though gold took on a glow that was fierce, bright, and unlike anything you had ever seen before.   _

 

_ “Come on!” Dean growled, voice rising with his mounting panic as you both watched Lucifer stand up, those icy eyes landing on the two of you before his lips also pulled up at the edges.   _

 

_ There was nothing soft about this smile.  Nothing remotely human lay beneath it, only the promise of everything unpleasant in existence. _

 

_ Fear tightened your chest, stilling your movements enough for Dean to gain control.  He almost had you out the door before one final burst of desperation had your hands gripping the doorframe, preventing you from being pulled through it.  _

 

_ Gabriel’s voice sounded so rich and clear within your mind it was as if he was murmuring into your ear. _

 

_ “Catch you on the flip side, sweetheart.”   _

 

_ His energy blew over you like a warm breeze, unlocking your fingers and breaking your grasp just before the doors slammed shut in your face.    _

 

Cas had shown you and your brothers his wings once.  You remembered staring up at them in wonder, the ethereal blackness towering over you as it sprouted up behind the angel. If you had thought those were mighty, the ones you were staring at were simply immense.  

 

Only these were no longer attached to anything.  

 

You tried to swallow around the overwhelming sea of sentiments pushing their way up past your throat.  When you refused to let them float any higher, they seized around your lungs, forcing your breath to still.  It was hard to stay grounded when it felt like everything, from the air around you to the blood in your veins, had frozen. 

 

The riptide continued to pull you under, the flurry of emotions squeezing so tightly you thought you might actually be having a heart attack from the amount of pressure sitting on your ribcage.  It registered as a harsh contradiction to the awe that bled through the backdrop of pain as you stared down at the mighty spread of ash.  It spanned the length of the room, and you could easily see this pair of wings dwarfing your giant of a brother when fully extended.    

 

No wonder Gabriel’s presence had always seemed so large.  

 

It was one you were never going to feel again. 

 

A sob tore free, caught somewhere between your heart and mind.  You clamped a hand over your mouth, trying to keep it from escaping completely.   _ You never should have left him there. _

 

You rocked forward, knees hitting the tiled floor  _ hard _ , though the pain never registered through crushing weight that forced you down.   _ You should have told him he was more than just the giant dick of a screw-up that everyone said he was - that you knew he believed himself to be.    _

 

The thin barrier keeping your feelings at bay burst, freeing them from your body in a slow, steady keen you were unable to choke back.   _ He deserved better.  From you.  From _ **_everyone_ ** _.   _

 

And you had left him to die alone. 

 

You blinked, vision blurring, as tears slipped out from beneath your lashes.  The noise in your throat faded, your sorrow and regret suffocating even that, until you began to grow dizzy as nothing passed in or out of your airways.  You knew what was happening, you recognized the panic that coiled tightly around your system, but you had already sunk too far beneath dark waters to be able to resurface in time.  

 

A lifeline appeared in the form of a familiar, chaotic hum.  It tentatively buzzed across your senses before washing over you completely, and for a moment you wondered if your mind was playing tricks.  The only other explanation was that somehow, some residual energy remained trapped within this place, because there was no way Gabriel was really there, not when the evidence lay scattered across the floor in front of you.  

 

Either way, it didn’t matter.  What you sensed was so strong it was almost tangible, so much stronger than that lingering essence floating along the periphery of existence.  This was the realest thing you’d felt since that night, and the difference between this and that faint echo broke your heart all over again.

 

Because you knew this moment, like all the others, was fleeting and would slip through your fingers no differently than before.

 

Something shifted in the air surrounding you, a slow, steady progression of a new kind of energy sweeping in behind the original one.  It was warm, reassuring in the way it wrapped around you, like having a familiar blanket draped over your shoulders after sitting out in the cold for far too long.  It brought with it that touch of comfort you only experienced in those rare moments where someone actually noticed the train wreck you were beneath the surface and reached out to try and quell it.  

 

The heaviness in your chest began to recede, as did the tide of emotion that had ripped steady shores out from beneath you.  Your head slowly broke surface once more, and you had enough focus to begin to regroup.  Your knees ached in a way you knew meant there would be bruising, and you could feel the chill from the floor seeping through the thin fabric of your pant suit.  What was more telling was what you couldn’t feel.  

 

Your heart thumped steadily away instead of hammering against your ribs.  Your breath remained even, not the ragged gasps you would expect after breaking down.  It was just another confounding piece to an ever growing puzzle.  

 

You gave a quick sniffle to clear your nose, pulling your sleeve across your face in an attempt to erase the lingering signs of your grief.  More than just your knees protested as you went to stand, and you were only halfway up before black spots splashed across your vision.  Your exhaustion hit full force, your emotions having consumed most of your energy, forcing you to tap into your reserves.  

 

Your legs buckled, sending you back down when you felt the briefest flutter along your side.  Your skin jolted at the contact in a way that was unmistakable, distinct, and absolutely impossible.  Your mind reeled, shock hitting even harder when you realized just how gently you ended up back on the floor.

 

Your eyes flashed up to the empty space in front of you, and you did your best to quell the hope that briefly blossomed.  You didn’t dare to let it catch hold of anything, not after what had just happened, and certainly not after all you had been through.  

 

It couldn’t be him.  Yet, you found yourself calling out anyway.  

 

“Gabriel?” 

 

The air around you stood still again, or perhaps you were just losing your ability to take it in anymore.  You didn’t really expect a response.  You expected to find yourself alone, and when the door swung open behind you, you froze.

 

_ Too tall  _ you realized as you watched a figure step through the entrance from the corner of your eye.   Instincts seized control, your fingers tightening around the weapon at your side as you turned.  You didn’t have time to feel disappointed, or notice the way that small ember immediately faded back out of existence.

 

You whirled, gun and flashlight raised in tandem toward the intruder as you shot to your feet.  You ignored the dizzying vertigo, doing your best to blink the world back into focus as your light hit the figure in the face, forcing them to pause.  A large hand came up to shield your onslaught, and you swept your beam down across a broad chest where the letters  _ Randolph County Sheriff  _ were sewn in bright yellow lettering.  

The adrenaline coursing through you had your hands shaking as you immediately lowered your weapon.

 

“That’s a good way to get yourself shot,” you told him, tone clipped.  The last thing you needed was to take out the head of the local law enforcement.  Mostly because Dean would never let you live it down.  

 

You could see it now.  Any reference to Indiana would have him bursting into song, and listening to him sing was its own special form of torture.  The fact that it would be  _ I Shot the Sheriff  _ would only double the punishment. __ He’d be such a smartass about it, too, slipping it onto a random mixed tape to catch you by surprise.   _ Hey, isn’t this your jam?  _ He’d say when it drifted through the speakers before cranking it up.  

 

At least that’s what he would do if he were still around.  

 

“Agent Stark?” Recognition eased some of the tension that marked the man’s features, but there was no mistaking the undercurrent of apprehension in his voice, and you wondered how much of the unnatural energy the man sensed.  “How did you get in here?”

 

“They, uh, teach us to be pretty resourceful at the bureau,” you told him, tucking your gun back at your side.  It wasn’t the smoothest lie, but it certainly sounded better than divine intervention.   You couldn’t tell if he bought your response or was too distracted as his flashlight immediately dropped to the body on the floor.

 

Clearly one of you had been through actual law enforcement training.

 

A small surge of sympathy crested as you watched him pale.  The weariness, however, that settled along the lines of his face was what had your empathy stirring.  The man had probably seen more bodies in this building alone than most officers did in their entire career.    

 

You watched him check for a pulse.  When he received nothing, he looked as if nothing would make him happier than if this place burned to the ground.

 

At least the two of you had  _ that  _ in common.  

 

You wondered if there might be anything else you shared.  Maybe you could find out once you figured this whole mess out, provided it didn’t scare him away in the first place. 

 

“Did you call it in?” He asked, glancing up at you.  

 

“Hadn’t had a chance to yet,” you replied just as the body gave a shudder.   _ Shit _ .

 

“Sheriff,” you warned, instinctively taking a step back.  The body’s chest expanded slightly as if taking in air.  Shit shit shit shit _shit_.  You’d left everything remotely useful back in the car.  Not that you were completely certain what was useful for undead Gods.  You drew your weapon, hoping a little lead might at least slow it down.

 

“Oh my God, he’s still alive!”  Said no survivor of the horror show that was your life.  Ever. 

 

Sheriff,” you tried again, but he was already dropping to his knees and attempting to help it.

 

The body arched slightly, chest expanding further.  Only it never exhaled.  It never opened its eyes.  If anything, it sounded as if something was blowing air  _ into  _ it.

 

“Sir, can you hear me?” The sheriff asked, gently easing up the thing’s eyelids and testing for a response with his light.  You quickly moved toward him, hand coming down on his shoulder as you tried to get his attention.  The corpse arched some more, it’s skin making an odd sound as it began to grow taught, especially around its stomach.

 

“Uh, sheriff,” you said dumbly, your intuition tingling with the feeling that  _ nothing good  _ was about to happen.  Only what would you say?  You couldn’t just tell him he was hovering over an ancient Norse god… could you?   _ No _ , no, you couldn’t.  It would only distract him as he tried to figure out whether or not to call  _ you _ in instead, and he would still end up dead.  

 

Thankfully, the man wasn’t completely oblivious to the signs that maybe, just maybe, this was a little out of the ordinary.  It probably helped that the thing continued expanding, its back rounded unnaturally as the rest of it remained stiff, or maybe it was the odd noise it began to make.  The sound was familiar, tugging at something in the back of your mind that you couldn’t immediately place.  

 

Summer.  Children.  An exhilarating rush as you and Dean raced out of a store, stolen goods jammed into your pockets.   Furtive whispers and hushed excitement as you unloaded your haul while Sam was still asleep.  The lightheadedness of too little sleep and far too little breath.  The sound as Dean roughly handled the balloon in his mouth, the latex clearly in the process of being stretched far too thin.

 

Your eyes widened.  Oh  _ shit _ .  

 

A loud  _ pop _ thundered through the room as the body burst, sending up a spray in every direction.  Your reflexes had you twisting at the last moment, doing your best to keep whatever bits you could from flying up into your face.  Only you never got drenched with the expected spray of liquid.  There were no dull spatters of soft, fleshy things hitting you  _ anywhere _ .  There was only the slightest tickling as dozens of tiny  _ somethings  _ brushed along the side side of your neck and hairline where you hadn’t been able to shield yourself along with a residual ringing in your ears as you were left in silence once again.

 

Slowly, you lowered your arms, hesitantly bringing your flashlight back over to where the sheriff sat.  He’d fallen back on his haunches, a dazed look blanketing his face.  Bright colors lazily sparkled across the beam of light,  blinking back at you in various hues of reds, purples, greens, and… neon pink?

 

You reached out, allowing a few of the small pieces to land in your hand.  You could only stare for a moment in disbelief.  Was that what you thought it was?  

 

“Agent?”  

 

You glanced back up, the back of your hand immediately flying to your mouth as laughter threatened to bubble out from inside you.  You weren’t sure what was more hysterical: the look on the sheriff’s face as he realized just what he was covered in, or the fact that he had just taken a lot of rainbow colored dick to the face.  

 

Either Baldur was filled with a whole lot of fabulous, or something was messing with you.  

 

You noticed the sheriff was looking toward you for guidance, a sign that this was real, some indication on how he should be taking the sudden turn of events.  He was looking to the wrong Winchester for that.  

 

Unfortunately, you were the only one in supply.

 

“Huh.”  You cleared your throat, trying to pull yourself together into some semblance of a professional.  “That’s - that’s different.”

 

“ _ Different _ ?” He demanded, voice inching higher with a touch of hysteria.  “I’d hate to see what you consider strange.”

 

_ You’re not kidding, cowboy. _

 

On a scale of one to certifiable, this didn’t even hit a three.

 

It was clearly beginning to break  _ his _ scale, however, as evidenced by the panic in his gaze

 

“Maybe we should get some air,” you told him, hoping to douse the sentiment before anything really caught and you were battling a wildfire on your own.  You walked over to him, offering your hand.

 

“Come on,” you told him, voice softening as he reached up and accepted your help.  

 

The tension was palpable as you both made your way out in silence.  Now that your mind was more present, you could pick up on the lurking presence in the building.  Death did have a way of doing that, though usually only when the souls stuck around.  Did gods and goddesses even have souls that could do that?

 

You shuddered.  Those were ghosts you never wanted to meet.  Likely, you wouldn’t either.  At least, not here.  Dick shaped confetti wasn’t exactly part of the standard spirit arsenal.  A certain archangel’s however…

 

_ No _ .  Your teeth clenched down, irritation growing at your continued insistence to leap to the most irrational conclusion.  It struck against the hope that threatened to spill back over into your consciousness, forcing it back into resignation. 

 

You needed to stop doing this to yourself. Gabriel was gone.  Dean was with Lisa.  Sam was in the cage, and Bobby hadn’t a clue where you were, so  _ you _ needed to hold it together and figure out what the hell was going on.  

 

A chill brushed your cheeks as you stepped out into the cool December air.  A spotlight shone bright and artificial from the top of the sheriff’s vehicle, illuminating the front of the hotel.  You watched him walk toward it, unsure if you should follow as he slumped against the side of the SUV.  He, at least, seemed relieved to be outside.  

 

Relieved, yet deeply disturbed.

 

You licked your lips, breath releasing in a fragile white puff in front of you as you considered where to even begin. 

 

“You alright?” You asked.

 

“Should I be?” He shot back before grimacing.  “Sorry.  I just… did that really happen?”

 

You took a moment to regard him, mulling over the brief moments of interaction you’d had with him.  Given his history with the “FBI” and the amount of bullshit he’s likely to have heard, you imagined honesty might actually be the best policy in this case.  

 

Structured, carefully fed honesty.  

 

“Which brand of crazy do you prefer?  The one where I say yes and there’s no logical explanation or the one where it’s all in your head?”  You couldn’t help the dryness from entering your tone.  Sober deliveries had never been your forte anyway, but with the amount of ridiculousness you’d just experienced, the last thing this man probably needed was a straight face and even straighter demeanor.

 

“Touche, agent,” wryness touched the corner of his lips suggesting the man had a healthy sense of humor somewhere beneath that tough exterior.  It quickly sank beneath the surface, however, as he briefly ran a hand over his face.  His eyes turned toward the sky as if, ironically, asking for some divine intervention.  

 

“How do I even call this in…”

 

“You don’t.”  A simple statement of a simple truth that you hope relayed just how complicated this entire thing did  _ not  _ have to be.

 

He simply looked at you like that was the craziest thing that had happened all evening 

 

“Hear me out,” you began, but you could tell by the skeptical look he gave you there wasn’t much he was going to hear; not yet anyway.  “... Over drinks.”

 

By the way his brows shot up there was no doubt he was listening  _ now _ .

 

You hadn’t meant to proposition him.  Normally, you didn’t even try to pick up uniforms considering how messy that could make things, whether or not the case was resolved.  Now that it had happened, however, you found you were surprisingly less opposed to the thought.  

 

You knew you needed a drink (when  _ didn't  _ you these days) but you hadn’t realized how much more was missing.  You’d grown accustomed to the lonely ache you carried with you, but fully facing Gabriel’s fate caused you to feel your brothers’ absence more keenly than you had in months.  

 

The thought of returning to an empty motel room was more daunting than facing down any supernatural being on your own.

 

“You can’t tell me you don’t need one,” you continued when you caught the hesitation on his face.  You couldn’t blame him.  If he was smart, he would be weighing how likely it was you took a side of crazy with your meals, or maybe why someone like you would even be looking at someone with ten years on them.  

 

Whatever conclusion he came to was the one you needed.  

  
“Why the hell not,” he muttered, raking his hand through his hair and adding a touch of manic to his nearly unshakable demeanor.  “You know where Harry’s is?”

 

You nodded.  You made it a point to know where you could get your alcohol.  This happened to be the hole in the wall around the corner from your hotel.  

 

“I get off in an hour.  I’ll meet you there after,” he decided.  

 

“See you there in an hour,” you agreed, turning to head toward your car.  

 

“And agent?”  You turned back toward him, brows drawing curiously when you saw how much uncertainty had crept into his gaze.  “You should probably know that power surge of yours came from here.”

 

Well that certainly explained what he was doing there after laying down the law back at the station.  

 

You hoped that wasn’t all he was good at laying.  

 

“So you decided to check it out yourself with contacting me?”  You quirked a brow at him.  

 

“Never got your number back at the station,” he reminded.  He had the decency to look contrite at how quickly he’d brushed you off.  

 

You reached into your pocket, pulling out a card before walking it over to him.

 

“See you in an hour, sheriff.”  You hoped the smile you gave was flirtatious and not pulling from the sheer desperation of a dry spell that had you as parched as the Sahara.  

 

His eyes fell on you, as if there was more he wanted to discuss.  You weren’t going to give him that chance.  Not yet.  Not when you could feel the weight of the evening creeping back over you, making you feel tired and even more terribly under-inebriated. 

 

You turned away, heading back toward your car.  You heard the sound of his door opening and closing a few moments before his engine roared to life.  He didn’t take off as most people did after such an encounter.  He even took the time to swivel the spotlight in your direction, lighting up your car far better than the soft glow of the moon.  

 

Clearly chivalry hadn't died, just taken refuge in a small, unassuming county in Indiana.  

 

You weren’t accustomed to people being thoughtful.  You were used to them knowing you could fend for yourself and letting you.  Normally, it irritated the shit out of you.  Tonight, it was touching, and had a small smile blooming on your face. 

 

You hesitated as you approached the driver’s side, eyes glancing back up the length of the building.  The soft sentiment on your face faded, the small flare of brightness extinguishing beneath the weight of your frown.  Disappointment spilled in with the shadows and confusion pulled your lips down even further.  You’d gotten what you came for.  So why did everything feel so much worse?

 

Maybe burning the place down wasn't such a bad idea after all. 

 

“I never asked,” the sheriff’s voice drew your attention and you looked over to find him with the window down, leaning out of the side of his vehicle.  “Are you alright, Agent Stark?”

 

You weren’t.  Not by a long shot, and things were going to get messy real quick if you didn’t have a distraction, no matter how much you drank.  

 

“Meet me for that drink, sheriff, and I will be,” you told him before pulling open the door and climbing into your car. 

 

***

 

_ He was gone _ .  

 

These words became the mantra you repeated on your drive back. 

 

It began with the shock of finding out you had managed to spend over three hours in a building it wouldn’t even take you five minutes to walk from end to end.   _ He was gone _ .  Though something powerful was here.   _ He was gone _ .  Something with a sense of humor --  _ but  _ he  _ was gone  _ \-- and you were doing your best to remember that Gabriel was not the only trickster in the universe.   

 

He had died in that God forsaken building nearly a year ago.  All the proof was there.  What really sealed the deal, however, was how believing any differently would tarnish your image of the archangel and make Sam’s sacrifice completely unnecessary.  

 

There were a lot of things you could endure.   _ That _ was not one of them. 

 

_ It was the only way _ you reminded yourself, desperate to derail that train of thought.  

 

Thankfully, your phone leapt to life, giving you some reprieve.  You pulled it out just as it stopped, and a notification popped up informing you that you had seven missed calls.  Not surprisingly, they were all from Bobby.

 

You decided you’d call him when you got back to the hotel.  Who you really wanted to hear from right now was Dean.  You missed his company.  You missed his ability to keep you grounded, even when he had no idea he was doing it.  You even missed his stupid jokes and snark.  

 

You could just hear him now.   _ Shall we stop by the local nut house and pick you up a new jacket?  Because all signs point to Gabriel owning a retirement condo over in the Great Beyond.   _

 

You leaned over, hand fumbling for the glove compartment, searching for the flask you’d stashed earlier.  You couldn’t get the damn thing open fast enough, and the trail of fire the contents left in its wake felt more familiar and comforting than you wanted to admit.  This sensation, however, was not only tangible, but real, and it helped you reel yourself back in and tether yourself back to the present. 

 

One hour.  You just had to live with yourself for one more hour and then you’d have someone else to focus on.  

 

Time continued to warp around you, and you had a feeling this had more to do with your internal state than any external influence.  The drive back didn’t take very long, but there were pockets where each second seemed to hang in the balance, as if your existence were crawling to a halt.  Maybe it really was.

 

Then again, maybe this is what it felt like to finally step too far onto the wrong side of sane. 

 

You made it back to your room, and the first thing you did was reach for your phone.  You winced when you noticed he’d gone so far as to text you.  The only thing that man hated more than texting was being hung up on without explanation.

 

You were in  _ so  _ much trouble.  

 

“About damn time,” he answered on the first ring and he didn’t even give you a moment to prepare before lighting into you.  “You better be knee deep in bodies or missing all your digits, because I don’t see any other reason you couldn’t have called back to let me know  _ you weren’t dead. _ ”

 

Leave it to Bobby to bypass the jugular and go for something even worse:  _ guilt _ .

 

“I’m sorry,” you told him.  He was even using the  _ voice that shall not be named _ , dubbed as such after you got tired of arguing over it.  Dean insisted it was the  _ uncle voice _ , because the three of you had a father.  You argued it  _ was  _ the  _ father voice _ , mostly because you really  _ didn't _ .  

 

It was all semantics, as far as you were concerned.  Bobby had and always would be more of a father to you.  Maybe not to Dean.  Maybe not even with Sam, but Bobby was the one to build you up whenever John had a snide remark.  When Dean hit nine out of ten bullseyes, it was all  _ Congratulations, you’ve lived through nine cases and died on your tenth.   _ When you hit ten for ten, it was  _ Do it again and this time it better be dead center because no werewolf is gonna sit still for you, let alone give you anything to aim for.  _

 

It also helped every now and then Bobby would tell John where to shove it when he was being particularly harder on you than the boys.  

 

“Sorry doesn’t cut it, kid,” Bobby shot back.  “Do you have any idea how worried I’ve been?”

 

“I know,” you said quietly, about to explain when something tickled along the edge of your senses.  You froze, half-expecting to see the walls closing in around you because  _ something _ was spilling into the room, filling the space around you to the brim.  A familiar energy began to rise, the air positively buzzing as it wafted over your skin.  

 

You were losing it.  You had to be.   _ He was -- _

 

“You know, there’s daddy issues, and then there’s  _ daddy  _ issues, and I have to say, hitting on the sheriff?  Definitely the latter,” a voice you never thought you’d hear again broke in.  Your heart leapt back to life, battering against your ribs as if trying to break out because  _ he was standing right there.   _

 

“Bobby I - I gotta call you back,” you breathed, amazed you even managed to get that much out by how badly your mind was reeling.  

 

“God damn it, kid, wait!”  You were vaguely aware the exclamation was followed by  _ there’s something you need to know _ but you couldn’t imagine whatever it was being able to trump what was happening right at this moment.  You ended the call, nearly dropping the phone as your arm fell limply to the side.  

 

“Gabriel?” You asked uncertainty grabbing hold of you once more.  You knew if you turned and found yourself staring at nothing, then that would be it.  Whatever makeshift bandages you were using to keep your world together would come loose and everything from the past five and a half years would come crashing down around you.  

 

That trademark snap broke the silence and suddenly the angel was right in front of you.  

 

You blinked once.  Twice.  A third, expecting something to change each time, but nothing did, and for a moment all you could do was stare.  

 

He looked exactly as you remembered.  Honeyed hair swept back from his face, ending in the slightest curls toward the back of his neck.  Flecks of gold spattered his eyes against a backdrop of green that often became overshadowed in certain lights.  Even in the dim hotel room, they seemed more whiskey colored than anything.  His lips curled into that smug smile of his, the one that not only hinted at mischief, but at an unpredictability that left you wondering what was about to come next.  He was even wearing the same outfit as the last time you saw him.   

 

You were partially aware you probably looked ridiculous, mouth half-open and poised to let loose a flurry of questions, but your mind still too much in shock to connect it with whatever part of your brain was responsible for language.  

 

“Are you real?”  You finally asked, afraid that this was somehow a dream and you had never even left your motel room back in Massachusetts.  

 

He sauntered closer, eyes dancing with amusement.  Before you realized what was happening, he slipped a finger beneath your chin.  Your breath hitched, skin against skin sparking as if he were touching a livewire to you.  The pad of his thumb brushed across your bottom lip, and this time the electricity traveled straight down through all of your nerve endings.  Your mouth began to tingle with something familiar yet somehow completely foreign and the gesture was far more intimate than expected.  

 

It took you a minute to realize it was just his grace healing you, the lingering cuts and bruises across your body giving that tell tale itch as new cells overtook the ones that were damaged.  Some of your tiredness even receded, leaving you feeling more rejuvenated than you had felt in weeks.  

 

“Real enough for you?” His smirk widened as he closed your mouth.  The contact lingered longer than necessary, and you found yourself caught in those mirth-filled depths.  Something else began to move across his vision, however, something that placed a varnish over gold, dimming some of its luster.  

 

A flash streaked across your instinctual radar as you noticed the extra energy vibrating within his gaze and that his pupils were wider than normal.  There was more to it, you couldn’t figure out exactly what yet, only that your intuition was kicking somewhere near your spleen with a warning that this might not be the Gabriel you remembered.  

 

Just like it hadn’t been the same Dean that had come crawling back from Hell. 

 

_ Dean _ .  Your first inclination was to call him, until you realized you  _ couldn’t _ .  The moment you told him who was there, he’d be out the door and breaking every traffic law to make sure you were ok.  

 

You wouldn’t be the one to drag him back into this life. 

 

Your emotions crept back up from where you tried to keep them buried, using that aching loneliness of your brother's’ absence to obscure their presence until it was too late to push them back down.  You were once again strapped into the roller coaster, and the constant dips and rises were beginning to take their toll.  The walls that kept you pushing onward, that kept you even standing, were getting battered to the point you weren’t sure how much more they could take before breaking.  

 

Something about that must have shown.

 

“You ok, cupcake?”  Gabriel asked, finally releasing you as he took a step back to study your features.  

 

The one good thing about the surge of emotion was it had shattered the hold your disbelief had over you and elation blossomed down the center of your chest.  It spread outward across familiar ivied tendrils still lined with the thorns of grief and bitterness you’d worn for so long now.  Gabriel was  _ alive _ .  Somehow he’d made it back, and if you weren’t so overwhelmed, you would have thrown your arms around him.  

 

All you seemed to be able to do, however was cry.   _ Again _ .  

 

“Fuck,” you mumbled.  You pressed the back of your hand against your mouth, not trusting it to say anything else.  You turned your head, using your hair as a shield to hide the sentiments gathering at your lash line.  

 

Apparently you were wrong; things were getting messy no matter what happened this evening.

 

“Sweetheart, don’t - I…  _ shit _ ,” he swore.  You almost laughed, but caught yourself.   You decided it might  _ not  _ be the best reaction when something so terrifyingly powerful sounded about as close to skittish as you imagined he ever got.  

 

If things were normal, you would have smoothed things over with a good taunt.  The thought of teasing him about knowing how to face the devil but not a crying girl had  _ that  _ tactic fizzling right out.

 

“How long have you been back?” You wiped the few tears from your cheeks that had fallen before turning back toward him.  You did your best to keep your features neutral, though there was nothing you could do that would keep him from hearing the way your heart picked up a few extra beats.  

 

Once again, time slowed it’s dance around you, pulling your world to the brink of halting.  Everything hung in the balance as you awaited his answer, and the last time you felt like you faced a threat of this magnitude, you were facing a completely different archangel.

 

You folded your arms over your chest and one by one your muscles began to tighten beneath the strain of your nerves.  If he told you he had been alive this entire time, you were going to make sure the next angel blade that entered him unquestionably hit its mark.

 

“Not long,” he admitted, taking in your defensive posture and unreadable stare and drawing the wrong conclusion.  “Look, I get it if you want me to leave.  I just figured…”  That confident air of his faltered again, the darks of his eyes widening further.  That previous energy continued to soar, adding a manic edge to his look that was so palpable it was contagious.  

 

“So help me, Gabriel, if you disappear without giving me  _ any  _ answers, you will not like what happens when I find you again,” you warned.  There was so much threatening to spill over at him just being there, the thought of him disappearing just as suddenly had anxiety pulsing fast and hard through your veins.  

 

There wasn’t enough liquor  _ or  _ sheriffs in the state to handle the aftermath should that happen.

 

“What are you going to do, sick your pet angel on me?” He challenged with a quirk of his brow.  “Give me a new piercing with one of your little toothpicks?”  His eyes dropped to where you kept your knife.  

 

Just like that, the game resumed.  You reached back into your jacket, finding the hidden sheath you’d sown into the lining before you pulled out an angel blade.  Gabriel’s brow raised even further.

He let out a low whistle.  “Big daddy Cas is keeping you well supplied these days.”

 

An eloquent, “Uhhh,” escaped your lips, unsure of when exactly Cas had become the focal point of comments for someone  _ other  _ than your brother.  “It was a birthday present from Dean.”  

 

Technically, it was from Zachariah, but you saw no need to rehash all the sordid details of whose family members killed whom at the moment.  You also didn’t want to deal with getting it back in your coat (newsflash: giant blades were far easier to remove from awkward places than to put back) and settled on tossing it temporarily onto the bed.  

 

“Speaking of Deana-rino, where is that mirror opposite of yours?” He asked, moving toward the mattress where he threw himself sideways across it.  He picked up your blade, taking a moment to inspect it before casually toying with its tip.  

 

“He got out,” you answered, unaware of the sadness creasing your lips and pulling them down into a frown.  Gabriel pretended to prick his finger, shaking his hand with a wince before casually sliding the weapon aside. 

 

“Glad someone took my advice and started keeping him leashed,” he glanced up, smirking at his own joke.  “Don’t worry, cupcake.  There’s only so many places here you can find burgers and tail or lumberjack flannel.”

 

You let out  a breath of a laugh, a powerful discord winding through you as the past once again pushed up against the present.  

 

“He got out of the life,” you clarified, turning your head to hide the emotions that threatened to make another appearance.  You busied yourself by emptying the pockets of your coat, arranging the items neatly across the dresser.  Badge.  FBI Cell.  Your real cell.  Dean’s backup that still got the occasional case every now and then.  Notepad.  Pencil.  You unclipped the holster from your side, adding your gun to the collection.

 

“If you had asked me which one of you I thought could actually make it in the regular world, he would not have been my guess,” he marveled. 

 

You really didn’t want to talk about this. If Gabriel, in all his infinite wisdom, hadn’t figured out what happened yet, somebody needed to tell him.  He deserved to know about his family.  

 

Even if they were all a bunch of manipulative, narrow-minded asshats.

 

“When did he decide to take the big leap?”  The way he looked at you made you wonder if he was starting to pick up on some of your hesitation.

 

“Right after Sam, Lucifer, and Michael took one into the cage,” you said, matter-of-factly, shrugging off your jacket and tossing it into a nearby chair.

 

“What?!” He demanded, shooting up on the bed with surprise.  “Lucifer, Michael,  _ and  _ Sam are in there?”

 

You fiddled with the belt at your waist, using the feel of cool metal beneath your fingertips to keep you tethered despite the way your nerves were tingling beneath your skin.

 

“How did you expect us to get your brother back in?  Buy him a drink and ask nicely?”  A sardonic edge entered your tone and your words came out sharper than you intended.

 

“Honestly?  When I died, I expected half the world to follow and for Lucifer to be purging the other half by now,” he admitted, something close to pride touching his tone as he continued.  “But that was awfully clever of your brother, making Luce ride shotgun while his ass got driven back to Hell.”  

 

“It was a terrible fucking idea,” you snapped, an explosion of anger igniting across your vision.  Anyone with half a brain could figure out trapping yourself with beings willing to overlook the death of millions over a glorified pissing contest was the worst plan ever. 

 

And it was absolutely, unequivocally, one hundred percent yours.  

 

This was one subject, you couldn’t touch, past  _ or  _ present, no matter how much liquid courage you had in you.

 

“Do you want to talk about it?” 

 

You look up to find amber unexpectedly soft, understanding, and it made you question whether he was really that good at connecting the dots or if he simply wasn’t playing fair.  The fact he was even offering to listen, however, was a revelation in and of itself.  

 

“I’m a Winchester,” you reminded giving him sarcastic smile.  “I drink my problems, but thanks.”

 

Among other things.

 

Speaking of other things, you should probably figure out what you were going to do with the sheriff now that Gabriel had crashed the party.  As if on cue, your phone shuddered, vibrations sending it skittering across the bureau in a dull hum.  You turned, catching sight of an unfamiliar number coming up across the caller ID.

 

“Agent Stark,” you answered

 

“It’s Sheriff Newbury.”  

 

You ran a hand through your hair as you realized you hadn’t even bothered to get his name earlier.  You were pretty sure from one to ten on the desperation scale, you may have broken your record and hit a fourteen.

 

“I just got a call in town I need to check on,” he continued.  

 

The way your eyes swung to the archangel was purely a reflex, one that was there for a reason as you watched a telltale smirk stretch slowly across his face.  

 

“Anything I can help with?” You asked and that smirk proceeded to grow a little forced.  You wouldn’t have asked except if Gabriel  _ was  _ involved, chances are you would end up there sooner or later anyway.  

 

“Sounds like a routine theft.  Nothing to worry about.  I’ll catch up with you after, if it isn’t too late.”

 

“I - yeah,” you fumbled, the energy levels in the room fluctuating rapidly and drawing your focus away from the conversation to the point you weren’t paying attention to what you were even agreeing to.  

 

That’s when you noticed, Gabriel was gone.  

 

Your head whipped around, only to find him snooping around the vanity on the other side of the room.  You sent him a withering look, and he froze.  Like everything about his mannerisms, his facial expression became exaggerated.  His eyes became owlish, his mouth forming an ‘o’ of awkward surprise as he pretended to be caught.  He raised his hands up in surrender, slowly inching away from the area in question.  

 

Amusement tugged at your lips and you found it even harder to focus on your call.  “Just, uh, call if you run into anything strange.”

 

“Considering the wide definition that word now carries, if that happens, you better be bringing drinks to  _ me _ ,” he  jested.

 

“Yeah, sure,” you said absently, eyes never leaving the archangel before you hung up the phone.  You regarded him a moment, brow creeping up curiously.  DId you even want to know what he was up to?

 

Yes, yes you did.  It was better to hear it straight from the horse’s mouth than to get kicked in the teeth with it later.

 

“What did you do?” You demanded.

 

“Why does everyone always assume I’ve done something?” He shot back, his tone a perfect blend of innocent and indignant.  

 

“It usually saves time?” You fired back, and you found bantering with him was just like slipping on an old coat.  Everything was familiar, comfortable, broken in, to just the right fit.  It carried with it a sense of security you hadn’t felt in quite some time; the same one you felt when piling into the Impala with your brothers, or when you stepped through Bobby’s door and took in the unique smell of canned food, musty books, and drying herbs.

 

You didn’t realize how badly you needed to feel it until this moment.   

 

“Relax, sweet cheeks.  Turns out your precious sheriff is a halfway decent guy, so he’ll just be chasing his  _ own  _ tail this evening,” he said with a wink.  “Unless you’re really dead set on your previous plans, in which case, I commend your dedication to community service.  Someone’s gotta spend time with geriatrics…”

 

Your levity faded, his words answering a lingering question you had yet to ask.  You folded your arms over your chest.  

 

“So you’re saying it  _ was  _ you back the Elysian Fields?”  Your gaze narrowed pointedly at him.  You’re not sure why you asked.  How else would he have known you’d asked the sheriff out?

 

“Uh,  _ yeah _ ,” he replied, the attitude behind his words relaying just how ridiculous  _ he _ even thought the question was.  “Do you know anyone else who would rig a body with rainbow dick confetti?”

 

“So you’re the one who opened the door for me?”  You had to give yourself credit for how even-keeled you sounded, despite how quickly everything was clamoring inside you to light  _ him  _ on fire before you left town, depending where the rest of this conversation went.

 

“Yep,” he said.  

 

That son of a bitch.  You  _ had  _ felt him.

 

“So, what did you find more amusing?”  You asked, your voice taking on a deadly calm as a rush of heat surged into your cheeks.  “The look on the sheriff’s face when you turned Baldur into an exploding pinata, or the look on mine when I thought you were dead?

 

Gabriel paused.  It was a brief reaction, one he quickly glossed over with that care-free air.  For him, it was the equivalent of freezing, completely caught with his hand in the cookie jar.

 

Or, in this case, being a complete  _ jerk. _

 

“I can’t help but feel like we’re getting off on the wrong foot here,” he said, throwing his thumb back towards the door.  “Why don’t I go outside, knock, you let me in, and we’ll start over with a touch less tragedy and waaaaay more party favors.”

 

He snapped his fingers and all you could hear were those obnoxious noisemakers people used on New Year’s Eve (or when testing one’s limits in regards to homicide).  Thankfully, the squawking quickly faded as the ceiling became packed from edge to edge with balloons.  Streamers of all different colors hung down at intervals between them, the shiny material wafting lazily back and forth.  You craned your head to find a giant banner hung on the far wall with the phrase  _ Welcome back Gabriel _ sprawled across it with  _ (you’re my favorite archangel) _ beneath it in slightly smaller lettering.  

 

You squinted.  Were those tiny hearts printed around the border?

 

“You’re such an ass, you know that?” You grated, determined not to be taken in by his distraction.  Gabriel was a lot of things.  Cocky.  Callous.  Self-centered.   _ Vain _ .  Every once in awhile, however, his inner angel would come shining through and he became asshat extraordinaire.

 

“Look, I get it,” he placatingly put his hands up in front of him, “not my finest moment, I’ll admit, but in my defense, I didn’t just leave you hanging.”

 

He conjured up a lollipop before sticking it in his mouth, as if that were enough to settle the conversation.

 

“You let me believe you were dead!”  You hissed.

 

You blinked and suddenly he was gone again.  Your heart leapt into your throat just as an audible  _ pop  _ sounded beside you.  You turned to find him pulling the sucker out of his mouth.

 

“And, if you recall, I also took away the pain of it,” he said, waving the piece of candy at you.

 

Well, that explained the feeling of calm that washed over you after your breakdown.  It did not, however, fix anything, as he seemed to think it did.  You continued to glare, because what he’d done amounted to wrapping gauze over a gaping wound: great in the moment, terrible for long-term care.  

 

Not to mention the right thing to do in that situation would be to reveal oneself instead of allowing someone to continue grieving.   

 

Then there was the whole matter of him spying on you.  The only thing you hated more than being lied to (and Gabriel  _ had  _ lied, albeit by omission) was having your privacy invaded.  The only way he could make it worse was admitting that, at any point over the course of this evening, he had intentionally dipped inside your mind.  

 

You did your best to swallow your anger, however.  From your experience, the finer points of morality regarding any celestial being only ended in headaches and the occasional cracked teeth.

 

“So the power surge, the time loss, the fact that Baldur hadn’t gotten the memo and was still hanging around the party,” you continued, trying to move on.  

 

“Yes, yes, and kinda.  The whole process is a bit complicated, rather boring, and, more importantly, not at all related to anything about me,” he drawled, a plate of cookies appearing in his hand.  They looked like your favorite, double chunk with both white and dark chocolate pieces.  He extended the olive branch, all but waving them beneath your nose, an expectant look on his face.

 

Reluctantly, you accepted, but only because the last time you ate had been around the time the sun came up.  You were pleased to find them still warm, as if fresh out of the oven.  You didn’t know how he always managed to make them the perfect temperature, but it was one of his better qualities.  

 

You took a bite, groaning when a burst of chocolatey goodness flooded your taste buds.  God, they were amazing.  So warm and soft and bursting with heavenly flavors in ways you could never get any baked good to do.

 

“Oh  _ lord _ did I miss these,” you murmured, shoving the rest into your mouth as you went for another one.

 

“I see how it is.  You missed my cooking, but you didn’t miss me?” He said with mock indignation.  He straightened up, his chest puffing out for good measure.  His nose even raised slightly, and an air of offense swirled around him in a way that made him seem unreal, almost more of a caricature than an actual being.  

 

Then again, when wasn’t he over-dramatizing something?

 

_ I missed you more than you know, Goldilocks _ .

 

The thought was unexpected, unbidden, and completely careening across your mind before you knew it.  It was better than tumbling out of your mouth, but you knew on occasion he heard things, even when he wasn’t trying.  

 

You eyed him for a moment, trying to gauge if this was one of those times.  

 

“I can’t imagine your special little angel comes bearing the gifts of your favorite baked goods,” he continued, and suddenly he was casual again, if not a little too casual. “Your taste buds must be awfully deprived without me.”

 

Wait a minute.  You had an angel?

 

You had to admit, he was good, so much so you almost fell for it.  There was no way you were letting him get you on a tangent so you forgot about the real issues at hand.  To be honest, however, you were simply relieved he didn’t seem to be listening to what was going on in your mind. 

 

“Just shut up and explain what happened,” you ordered, reaching for another cookie.

 

For once, he did as he was told and clamped his mouth shut.  You stopped mid-chew, giving him a scathing stare that warned your patience was wearing thing.  He held up a finger, mischief dancing across his lips as they turned up in the corners.  

 

“Sometimes, when something with a lot of energy comes crash landing back in existence, it tends to leave a mark or two,” a chorus of high pitched voices began, and once you realized the source of the explanation was the cookies, complete with beady golden eyes and actual mouths, you nearly dropped the one in your hand.  “Usually, it’s just physical destruction, but sometimes when there’s a lot of mojo involved, it ends up tearing a few holes in the time space continuum.”

 

Jesus’ holy undergarments.  Were you really being given a lesson in celestial quantum physics from a  _ dessert _ ?

 

“And as we all know, that is one thing I am never short on,” Gabriel finished normally, just before snagging a cookie off the plate and popping it into his mouth.  Your eyes widened, expecting to hear it screaming in agony on its way down.  He paused or a moment, eyeing you strangely, as you looked down to the one in your hand and found it had gone back to normal again.  

 

While normal had always been a relative term in your life, you found that the spectrum widened further every time you encountered the archangel.  

 

“So was Baldur there or not?” You asked, eyeing the treat a few more moments before hesitantly biting into it.  

 

“The question is, were any of us?”  He posed.  

 

“I just want to inform you, I’ve gotten really good at playing hide the angel blade.  The question is, is that my only one?” You queried, eyes briefly landing on the weapon in question before jumping back to him.  

 

“Fine,” he gave an exasperated huff.  “Baldur and you were both there, but it gets a little grey when you try to pin down whether you were in the past or he ended up in the present.  To be honest, I’m surprised you didn't’ stumble across a wormhole or two.  Whatever brought me back was kind of in a rush.”  

 

Great.  Now you had to worry about the locals potentially stepping out for a nice evening walk and ending up in the wrong century.  

 

You were definitely burning that place down the first chance you got.  

 

“Right.  Well…”  You just shook your head, mind racing as you tried processing all the information that had hit you over the last few hours.  “Now that that’s all squared away, can we please grab some real food somewhere where I can also find something tall and strong?”

 

He leaned forward, his brows giving a playful waggle, “I got something nice and strong for you right here, sweetheart.”

 

“Sorry, but I’m not certain you meet the height requirements,” you deadpanned, moving around him toward the closet to find something more comfortable to change into.  You opened the door, popping the button on the front of your blazer before slipping out of it.  

 

“Well, aren’t you full of surprises,” he let out a whistle and you turned, following his gaze to the splash of red that stood out against the light wood of the interior.

 

“A girls gotta be prepared for all occasions,” you told him, dryness splashing through your words and painting its way across your lips.  

 

“And here I had you pegged as the little black dress type,” he paused a moment, fingers coming up to stroke his chin.  “Or is that just my own fantasy of you?”  He stared toward the other side of the room as if deep in thought.  

 

You rolled your eyes, undoing your belt and tossing it inside.  You kicked off your flats, about to pull your bag out when the hair on the back of your arms stood on end.  For a moment, it was as if a vacuum appeared, the room feeling unusually vacant before shockwaves resurfaced, sending ripples of energy scattering in every direction.  You glanced over to find Gabriel hadn’t moved, save to put his back to you, giving you privacy while you changed.  

 

You reached into your bag, pulling out one of the default outfits you kept for when you didn’t expect to end up splattered in blood.  You  stepped behind the closet door, head poking around the side as you began to undress.

 

“I never asked how you were doing with, you know.   _ Everything _ ,” you started talking again, the unusual sensations as unsettling as the silence that followed. 

 

“Don’t worry your pretty little head over me, pumpkin.  This guy?” He jerked his thumbs back in his own direction.  “Can handle anything.  Except maybe this wallpaper.  I mean, sheesh, what were they thinking?  Tulips are  _ so _ passé.  Roses would have been a much better choice.” 

 

He made a horrified face that almost had you put back at ease.  His deflection was as comfortable as the two of you trading quips.  It didn’t mean you bought it.  However, in the interest of you actually making it somewhere, you decided to let it go for now.

 

“All set,” you announced before pushing the door closed.  He turned, giving your outfit a once over as you knelt down and began to lace up your boots.

 

“What?”

 

“Those combat boots?  Really tie the look together,” he teased, finger gesturing in a wide circle.  You looked down the front of you, seeing nothing wrong with the way your long sweater and dark, tight-fitted jeans came together with your footwear.

 

“These boots have saved my life on more than one occasion,” you informed him. 

 

“Sweetheart, you have me around,” he said giving you a cocky smile.  “What’s the worst that could happen?”

 

“Plenty,” you snorted.  

 

You had no idea how right you were.  

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  



	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You're given the chance to fix past mistakes, but, like most things with Gabriel, your night doesn't go as planned.

You were beginning to wonder if the resurrection process hadn’t left Gabriel’s eggs a little scrambled.  

 

First, he snapped you into the bar.  Not that you weren’t used to him preferring to travel that way.  It was one thing to bring you  _ to  _ somewhere, however, and another to send you both barreling into the side of a building.  

 

_ Just shaking the rust off, sweetheart  _ was his response while casually brushing off the side of your jacket.

 

Second, his attention span was far more abysmal than you remembered.  Sure, it had never been great if it didn’t involve sex, sweets, or sabotage, though tonight it seemed to have more to do with that scattered energy thrumming through him.  It spilled over into his movements, every hand gesture, every look a little more frantic than was usual, which again had you questioning whether or not this Gabriel was somehow changed.  

 

Third, he must have lost the instruction manual that came with the game because this was  _ not _ how you played.  

 

“Gabriel…” You said, voice taking on a sing song quality as you stretched out his name.

 

“Hmmm?” He hummed absentmindedly, eyes flicking up nonchalantly as if he’d been staring at your food instead of your chest.  You glanced down, checking yet again to make sure you hadn’t dropped anything down the front of you that was somehow distracting him. 

 

To be honest, you had dropped men for far less of an infraction, but this  _ was  _ Gabriel.  You might have understood if you had yourself on display.  The sweater you’d chosen, however, was probably the most modest thing you owned, neckline running high with an overall loose fit, giving only a hint of what was underneath.  

 

Dean would be so proud.  You couldn’t advertise yourself any less if you'd tried. 

 

Sharp laughter drew your attention away and you turned toward it, watching a couple walk through the entrance.  He disappeared out of your side vision for a split second and your hairs stood on end as he almost immediately reappeared. You didn’t even know what to do with  _ that _ , other than maybe start questioning your sanity again.  Every time you took your eyes off him, he seemed to glitch, as if not quite real.  

 

Maybe he wasn’t.  Maybe this was what you had dubbed his shadow twin and the real Gabriel was somehow still dead.  

 

“That couple seem odd to you?” He asked, eyes drifting toward the bar.  You followed it, gaze appraising.  They appeared fairly mediocre.  There was nothing notable in their appearance or with their clothing.  The only thing that was in any way distinctive was the sheer air of bliss surrounding them.  The woman couldn’t seem to stop giggling as the man whispered to her, his face beaming with a wide smile.  

 

_ Newlyweds _ , because they were definitely living in a fantasy world.  

 

“Other than looking disgustingly happy?” You did your best to keep your tone light and stave off the bitterness vying for a place in your voice.  

 

“Exactly.  I mean, who’s  _ that _ happy?” He demanded, eyes narrowing.  He wasn’t quite suspicious, but you also wouldn’t say he  _ wasn’t  _ eyeing them as if they might somehow be a threat.  

 

“Normal people without a clue as to what’s really out there in the world?” You hedged a guess, chasing the slight edge in your tone down with the rest of your drink.

 

“You need another drink,” Gabriel decided, pointing to your glass.  “And not that cheap stuff they keep behind the bar.”

 

You looked down to find your glass had not only been refilled with a different shade of amber, but it had also doubled in size.  You took a sip, mouth awash in pleasant, smoother flavors followed by a less caustic burn once swallowed.  The moment you looked up, however, you found his eyes right back where they’d been sitting for most of the evening.  

 

There were worst things, you supposed, than being served top notched drinks while an archangel ogled you.

 

“Gabriel,” exasperation sang through his name, though it didn’t appear to faze him.

 

“Yes, sugar?” He replied, eyes dropping to his own glass as he rubbed a finger along the rim.  He wasn’t staring, you realized, finally catching the look on his face.  He was zoning out.  It shouldn’t have surprised you.  He never stuck around for very long, only you couldn’t remember him ever getting bored this quickly.   

 

Then again, he hadn’t been exactly offering up his usual scintillating conversation, either.  

 

“Well I can see what kind of guy you are,” you baited, turning your attention back to your burger.

 

“Excuse me?” His eyes flashed back up, a little more focused.  There was nothing like throwing out a barb to get him hooked again. 

 

“Most guys have a preference on body parts,” you said casually around a large bite of your food.  “I once knew a guy that thought I had the sexiest ankles.”  You smirked, both at the memory and at how high the angel’s brow arched as he regarded your features once again.  

 

“My father did do an exceptional job when creating you,” he said so cautiously you almost stopped mid chew to stare.  The Gabriel you knew was never careful.  In fact, you were pretty certain his filter was permanently warped, if not outright broken.  He also never acted with anything other than that obnoxious air of confidence that bordered on hubris.  

 

It was clear by the way he was regarding you, however, he was not very confident as to where this conversation was going. 

 

“I’m not fishing for compliments, champ, but thanks anyway,” you slid your plate a little closer to him, offering some fries which he, not surprisingly, refused.  You suddenly recalled the only time you’d actually seen him eat any was when he’d had a milkshake to dip them in.  

 

“So which do you prefer?”  You continued, trying to prevent silence from lapsing again.

 

“Um, well, if this is a serious question,” he began, pausing to consider.  “I’d say that’s a gross oversimplification of preferences.  Beauty is so much more than just one aspect of a body, and I’m not talking the cliched  _ what’s on the inside counts more  _ mantra they preach these days - not that personality  _ doesn’t _ play a role.  But if we’re talking straight up physical attractiveness, it’s all about balance.  You show me  _ the _ hottest set of tits, legs, or ass in creation, and I’d guarantee if you put them all together it would be the one of the most grotesque things you’ve ever seen.”

 

For a moment you could only blink.  It shouldn't have surprised you so much that Gabriel would somehow turn the tables and catch  _ you _ off guard.  Clearly, he wasn't the only one with a little rust to get rid of.  

 

“What about you?” He asked.  “You have any preferences?”

 

Oh, you had a preference alright, for all the wrong guys.  Most of them had been one night stands or hunters, the latter of which had either ditched you, cheated on you, or in one case, left you for dead in the middle of a case.  It wasn’t that you didn’t think you deserved better. The problem was finding someone who knew about the life without having all the baggage.  

 

“Yeah,” you muttered, “Tends to be for giant dicks.”  The words were out of your mouth before you realized what you’d said.

 

“Well, I didn’t expect  _ you _ to be so one dimensional but I guess we all have our flaws,” he teased.  You let out a slight laugh, almost inhaling one of your fries.  

 

“Because who wants a  _ giant _ one of those?” You snorted. 

 

“I always figured Cas as more of a pushover than anything,” he mused, and the bitterness that crept into his words struck a similar note as your own.  

 

“What does Cas have to do with anything?”  You were completely lost again.  You had no idea what happened between the two of them, but something had rubbed Gabriel the wrong way by how the dark-haired angel couldn’t seem to stay out of the conversation.

 

“Although..,” he began, eyes flashing up to yours, whiskey glimmering as he gave you a knowing smile.  “If that was a hint you’re interested, sweetheart, you just had to say so.”

 

He hadn’t lost the manual, you decided.  He had set it on fire and was in the process of making up new rules.  It had been about subtleties, maybe a well placed innuendo here or there, but it had always been about dancing around those carefully placed lines.  Tonight, however, he seemed intent on charging right over them.  

 

“I believe your exact words were  _ there’s a big difference in being a dick and knowing how to use one and you, Gabriel?  Are the biggest dick in creation, _ ” he reminded.

 

You smiled.  You remembered that conversation well.  Might have been because you were trapped in an alternate reality.  Might have been because Gabriel stuck you in a naughty nurse’s outfit which made you livid.  Might have also been because you punched him square in the face for it and then he’d given you a peace offering in the form of the herpes commercial and Nutcracker show.

 

You were just about to respond when your FBI cell went off.  Gabriel suddenly stood up.  

 

“Don’t get up on my account,” he said.  “I’ll just go… get another round.”

 

You stared at the back of him as if he’d grown two heads when he moved toward the bar.  Not only was he making his own drinks at this point, but you weren’t going anywhere considering you were pretty sure his super sonic angel hearing had a radius bigger than city block… not to mention why would you leave to take a call he was likely responsible for anyway?

 

There definitely had to be some circuits fried.

 

“Hey sheriff,” you answered, recognizing the number.  

 

“I’d tell you to get those drinks ready, but I’m kind of already at the liquor store…” The sheriff informed you.  

 

“Why do I sense a  _ but  _ coming…” 

 

You could only imagine what would follow, and you braced yourself for the inevitable.

 

“... Probably because most of the store appears to have gone missing  _ while _ the staff was working.”

 

You almost sighed in relief.  Admittedly, that sounded odd, but it didn’t exactly sound like Gabriel’s normal brand of mischief.  

 

“I’m looking at the security feed right now and one was at the register all shift while the other was in back doing inventory, so neither of them did anything, but neither did  _ anyone else _ .”

 

“Like someone stole the store out from under their nose… and the security cameras?” You asked, confused.

 

“That’s just it.  The bottles are still there, but the liquor itself… well, it’s gone.   Like someone poured it out and put it all back...”

 

Your eyes narrowed on Gabriel who turned, giving you an innocent wave.    

 

“Or like someone drank it?” You stated more than asked.  

 

“I… guess?”  He responded. It sounded like he was unsure whether or not to call you out on your theory.   _ Not the only one waving around a one way ticket to the crazy express _ .  He apparently came to the same conclusion and decided to move on.

 

“It gets stranger, if you can believe it,” the second half of his statement seemed to be muttered more to himself than her.  “Only three sections were left when we arrived: gin, whiskey, and vodka.  Five minutes ago a whiskey bottle fell off the shelf and when a deputy went to pick it up… he found some of it missing.  Someone opened that bottle and took some of it  _ while we were here _ .”

 

“Let me guess.  That bottle was high shelf stuff,” you surmised.

 

“How’d you know?” The man sounded not only surprised, but a little spooked. 

 

The sheriff didn’t know just how lucky he was to be dealing with empty liquor bottles.  If vanishing whiskey unnerved him this much, she’d hate to see what he’d do with reports of slow dancing aliens or any number of antics Gabriel could conjure up. 

 

“If you haven’t opened any of those bottles yourself, you probably should,” you said dryly, trying to ease some of his nerves, though you were only half-joking.    

 

“My deputy might be in back with one of his own as we speak,” he said, completely  _ not _ joking.  “Can I ask you something and get an honest answer?”

 

“You can ask,” you told him, careful not to commit to actually answering anything.

 

“Do you know what’s going on?”

 

Honestly, you didn’t feel like you did.  You knew Gabriel was responsible, but what you couldn’t figure out was why he seemed so unlike his usual self.  Then again, you’d probably have a hard time bouncing back if your brother had killed you, but you couldn’t help but feel as if there was something else you were missing.  

 

“I have an idea,” you finally said, gaze absently falling back on the archangel.  He met it this time, giving you a devilishly handsome smile.  Scratch that.  Handsomely _ devilish _ by the extra little glint in his eye.  Probably because he was listening to every word being said and enjoying the chaos he’d started.    

 

“Do I want to know?” He asked.  

 

Well, wasn’t  _ that  _ a loaded question.  The sheriff seemed like a nice enough man.  There probably wasn’t a need to shatter his normal concept of the world over someone who would undoubtedly disappear from town before tomorrow anyway.  You just needed to keep said someone corralled in the meantime.  

 

“No, sheriff, you really don’t,” you advised.

 

“Right.  I’ll just…  spend the rest of my night figuring out how to write a report that doesn’t make me sound like my cheese has finally slipped off my cracker.”

 

“You know, a local trickster is as good a scapegoat as any,” you suggested, watching the angel’s lips curl up into a smirk.  

 

“That’s not half bad,” the sheriff replied, sounding thoughtful.  “And the hotel?”

 

Your watched as Gabriel received another glass, this one was orange tinged and had a little umbrella sticking out the top.  You put the phone on your shoulder, arching a brow as you pointed to the newest drink.   _ Sex on the beach _ he mouthed before his brows gave a quick flare.  You rolled your eyes, turning your back to him as you picked up your phone again.

 

“Agent, you there?” The sheriff was asking.

 

“Yeah… I’m not sure what advice you’re looking for since I don’t know what hotel you’re talking about,” you hinted.  You weren’t sure, but you thought you might have heard a long, drawn out sigh.  “Call back if you need to, but if you want to avoid any potentially strange things, you may not want to check the vodka aisle anytime soon.”

 

“Right.  I think I’m going to be tied up here for the rest of the night.  All these empty bottles need to be processed and entered as evidence,” he began to explain, nervousness coloring his tone.

 

“Sheriff, if you’re smart, you’ll stay tied up the rest of the time I’m here,” you told him, giving him the out he was looking for.   

 

“Yeah.  Good idea,” he said before ending the call. 

 

An amused puff of air slipped out of your nose and you shook your head.  This was why you couldn’t find anyone normal, because all the regular, smart ones knew when to run.  Not that you were disappointed considering your alternate plans, although now a little sideways, still involved one of the few individuals that could make you feel remotely like yourself again.  

 

“Gabriel...” You called over, tucking the phone back in your pocket.  The way his eyes snapped to yours immediately, he had been waiting for his cue.  He turned, fixing you with a charming smile as he caught sight of the stern look on your face.

 

“Gabe,” he corrected, sauntering back toward you.  “You, my dear, can call me  _ Gabe _ .”  His voice dropped a little lower, brows giving a quick flare. 

 

Old habits apparently died harder than archangels.  He’d been waging this battle since TV Land.  At the time, it seemed wise not to get too familiar with a being like him.  Strict boundaries and clear lines had seemed so important back then.  

 

What you called him now, however, was the least of your worries.  

 

“Gabe,” you conceded.  

 

Triumph splashed across his face in the self-satisfied pull of his lips and the crinkle of his eyes, and you could have sworn he’d won an actual war instead of laying to rest such a small detail in your relationship.  

 

“Yes?” He asked, tone raising dramatically as he leaned even closer to you.  That’s when it hit you.

 

You would never forget this smell.  It was the one your father never failed to reek of the first night back from a case, only this wasn’t the one of someone who’d just emptied half a bottle of whiskey.  This wasn’t even the smell of someone who’d had a full one.  The one coming from the angel was more than was humanly possible… like an entire liquor store was pouring out of him.  

 

And just like that, one of the final puzzle pieces dropped into place. 

 

“Are you drunk?” You demanded, folding your arms over your chest.  

 

“Maybe?”  He asked back.  “It’s been a few centuries.  I’m… not quite sure.”  He leaned a little too far into your space, and you felt your heart rate quicken at his closeness.  His balance shifted faster than he could compensate for and you had to grab him as he stumbled to keep him upright.  

 

“Why don’t we head back to the hotel,” you suggested.  The thought of having to manage a sober archangel was daunting enough, let alone having to deal with an inebriated one in public.  The last thing you needed was for him to get bored and  _ really _ start some mischief.

 

Trying to explain to an entire police department how to wrangle a minotaur was not on a list of things you ever wanted to do again.

 

Gabriel’s eyes dropped to where your hand had settled.  You could feel his heart thumping gently against your palm and you were surprised when it quickened.  You weren’t sure how everything worked when they took over a vessel, but you had seen Cas hurt enough times to know they didn’t make nearly as big of a mess when they got injured.  It was comforting to know their hearts still beat though, even if they technically didn’t need them. 

 

Once he seemed steady enough, you stepped back, releasing him.  

 

“I thought you’d never ask, sweet cheeks,” he murmured, waiting for you to turn around before smacking you square in the ass.  You froze, lips pursing together as you bit back a response. If having two brothers had taught you anything, it was if you didn’t react, the shenanigans would at least not get any worse.  

 

“Just cashing in that rain check you owe me,” he explained and you could hear the self-satisfied grin varnishing his tone. 

 

You moved forward, trying to put some distance between the two of you.  The energy in the room had become more chaotic since you called him on being drunk, and it only fueled your suspicion that he was still keeping something from you.  You just wished he trusted you enough to stop playing games and just tell you what the hell was going on.  

 

“I… should probably not snap us anywhere,” he declared as he caught up to you.  “Last time I drank a little too much, I ended up in the bathtub at my neighbor’s apartment.  His name was Bubba and he  _ liked _ his baths.”  Gabe’s brows shot clear to his hairline in recollection before a sing-song, “Awk- _ ward _ ,” slipped out of his mouth.  

 

You also wished he could stop being so damn endearing long enough for you to hold his feet to the fire.  

“Come on, bubbles.  Let’s get you out of here,” you told him, taking him by the arm.  

 

He let out a chuckle, dimples showing as his smile softened to one of genuine amusement.  It was the most relaxed response you’d seen all evening, that little manic edge seeming to have faded now that he had a decent amount of drink in him, despite the surge in his energy. 

 

“If you’re trying _ not _ to be attractive, you’re failing miserably,” he let you know as you made your way out the door.  You ignored the comment, thankful you didn’t have far to go with him. 

 

“Right now?  I’m just trying to get your drunk ass off the street,” you told him.  The hotel was right around the corner.  All you had to do was keep him out of trouble for five minutes… which was far easier said than done.  

 

“I could conjure us up a little magical transportation,” he said and your eyes widened as he raised his hand.  

 

“ _ No _ ,” you insisted, hastily grabbing at his fingers which were poised to snap.  It was bad enough dealing with whatever a rational Gabriel conjured; you could only imagine what would appear now. 

 

“I thought you liked unicorns?” He teased, grinning.  

 

Oh, you liked them all right… after they’d been filled with magical lead.  For all the lore that had remained, you’d have thought bloodthirsty impaling assholes would have been hinted at somewhere, not just the whole rainbow magic and sparkles.  

 

“I get it.  You’re looking for something a little more subtle,” he said, slipping his arm out from yours and twirling around, leaving his other hand still in your grasp.  “How about an acromantula?” 

 

“Gabriel,” you warned, a laugh escaping your lips as you imagined the look on the sheriff’s face when he started receiving reports of a man and a woman riding a giant spider through town.  The angel taunted you by raising his still free hand, readying it to snap.  You lunged forward only to have him yank it out of reach at the last second.  

 

“Ok, ok.  I’ll settle for a satyr,” he said, pretending to be put out as his hand continued to zig zag away from your grasp.  You let out a groan which only made his grin widen.

 

“Jesus’ crispy bacon, don’t you even  _ dare _ ,” you warned, finally capturing his second hand and holding it tightly in yours.  

 

“Protest all you want, but I know it’s a lot more fun than anything tall, dark and dour does with you,” he said, smugness creasing his lips as he smirked down at you.  “Bet you’d even enjoy the look on the sheriff’s face when you explained how to catch one of  _ those _ .”

 

You had no idea what the hell his first remark meant, but he wasn’t completely wrong with the latter.  You bit your lip, stifling a giggle when you thought about what he’d look like when he realized the only two settings that came with those beasts were hungry and horny.  

 

“Would be a shame to actually get called out for anything and lose this quality time we’re having,” you told him.  “But I guess that is what I do.  Hunt things.  Save people.  Hang out with giant dicks,” you baited, beginning to drag him along the sidewalk by his hands. 

 

If you could just keep him distracted, you might have a shot of making it without attracting attention.

 

“ _ Kidding _ ,” he sang, his announcement pushing the fringe of incredulity.  “Even  _ I _ don’t want to deal with that headache.  I only used them that one time to prove the point that I am  _ not  _ the most obnoxious being in creation, as Thing One so enthusiastically suggested,” he reminded. 

You could never keep it straight which brother was which, though you could recall Dean pitching an abnormally big hissy fit and getting into Gabriel’s face before it all happened, so you could only assume it was him.  He was also the target of not one but three of the four satyrs the angel had conjured while the fourth one, of course, had gone rogue to terrorize the town.

 

“Admit it: you just did it to see the look on his face when they started humping his legs,” you told him as you neared the corner. 

 

“Would you believe me if I said I did it for the look on  _ your _ face when it did?”  He said, all dramatic pretenses dropping.  

 

“Why would you do that?” You asked absentmindedly, head craning to catch a glimpse of the hotel.  Another minute or two and you’d be back in your room where, if needed, you could stuff his ass in the second closet which was warded to contain angels  _ and _ demons, since both were equally on your naughty list these days.

 

“If you don’t know the answer to that, sweetheart, you still aren’t paying attention,” he said with a shake of his head.  You glanced back at him, brows knitting together.  Was that disappointment you detected?  

 

“C’mon.  We’re almost there,” you told him, giving him a smile because you didn’t know what else to do.  You released one of his hands, keeping a firm grip on the other as you turned and continued on.  

 

By the time you made it into the building, you weren’t sure what you had trailing behind you.  Gabriel hadn’t said another word and you hadn’t chanced a glance to see exactly what kind of mood he was in. Was it his surly counterpart that occasionally made an appearance?  Was it the even rarer pensive version that actually  _ thought _ before saying something?  Was it even really  _ him _ ?   

 

You pulled him past the elevator, not wanting to risk the ride.  At least if you kept moving you could pretend things weren’t as awkward as they increasingly felt.

 

“Last one up gets the couch,” you challenged as you entered the stairwell, giving him a playful nudge with your elbow before taking off up the stairs.  You had made it almost to the top when you realized you didn’t hear him behind you.  You glanced down, pace slowing when you noticed he was no longer there.  

 

_ Son of a bitch _ .  Had he seriously just given you the slip?  Your heart screeched to a halt, anxiety pouring down through your chest and forcing the air from your lungs.  You were more concerned about the fact that he was gone again than by the havoc he could potentially be wreaking.  

 

You reached the top landing, turning just in time to keep from colliding with the body that suddenly appeared in front of you.  

 

“Jesus  _ fuck _ ,” you shrieked, so startled that you instinctively jumped back.  Gabriel grabbed you, preventing you from tumbling back down the steps as he whirled you around and safely into his arms.  You couldn’t tell if it was his touch or the sheer amount of adrenaline rushing through you that sent a dizzying jolt through your system, but for a moment all you could do was stare. 

 

“Thanks,” you finally said and the look on his face was unreadable.  “That’s cheating, by the way.”  

 

You gave him a small smile.  He didn’t say a word in return.  He simply released you before reaching behind his back to open the door.  He gestured for you to go through, but you hesitated.  

 

You didn’t want him out of your sight again, though you couldn’t actually tell him that.  You also didn’t want to admit how much had gone through your head in that moment he disappeared. You held your hand back out to him, tension mounting as you waited for his response.  You kept the same smile plastered on your face, hoping it might ward off whatever was causing that manic undercurrent to become so much more pronounced again.  Everything about him resembled a caged animal, one that was desperate to be let out.   

 

It was not a look he wore well.

 

He laced his fingers with yours, your hand practically buzzing from his energy.  Relief eased some of your worry and you focused on just making it back to your room.  It was only halfway down the hall, but somehow those final feet seemed to take even longer than the rest of the walk had.  

 

You were very aware of the increasingly heavy silence with each step, as were you to the  _ why _ .  How many times had you fantasized about leading Gabriel back to your room?  About the way it would feel for his lips to be on yours, his hands exploring the curves of your body, as you explored just what exactly lay beneath his clothes.  How many times had you prayed for a second chance with him because you could never find the courage the first hundred or so you’d been given, and squandered?

 

Then again, in all those situations, neither of you were stewing in alcohol.  You let out a slow breath, finding you were relieved more than disappointed.  How many times had you prayed for him just to be alive and eating his way into a diabetic coma somewhere?  

 

You stopped in front of your door, fishing your key out of your pocket before sticking it in the lock.  

 

“You still with me, champ?” You asked, catching sight of the distant look on his features.  He didn’t respond.  He seemed a million miles away at that moment.  Then again, who was to say he really wasn’t?  At this point, anything was possible, including the notion that this was somehow one giant mindfuck of a trick.  

 

His gaze lowered slightly, as if sensing that thought, whiskey shaking off a little haze before focusing on you.  Intently.  

 

“You going to let me in?” He mused, brow arching slightly.  The look in his eye was different, unfamiliar, and it was making you nervous.  You weren’t about to deny him, however.  At least letting him in afforded you a modicum of control.  

 

You were about to be shown just how very wrong that assumption was.  

 

He was practically on top of you the moment you made it through the threshold, his presence suddenly looming.  It swelled even further as the door clicked shut behind him, every inch of the space filled with him and  _ only _ him.  

 

“You going to eat me?” you teased, only half-joking as you tried to dispel some of the tension still hovering in the air.  

 

“Only if you want me to, sweetness.”  His tone caressed your senses like the finest silk; it was so smooth and utterly seductive.  You swallowed as the lights suddenly dimmed, candles popping up at the snap of his fingers to create the perfect ambience.  

 

“Gabriel what --”

 

“Hush,” he murmured, finger flashing up to your lips in an attempt to cut off your protest.  “I’m going to go out on limb and assume the sheriff was not intended as a third for your little party.” 

 

You blinked.  If he didn’t start making sense soon, your mind was going to collapse on itself from all the whiplash you were getting.  

  
“I mean, I can’t imagine Cas would even know what to do with you properly, let alone two of you, so I assume whatever arrangement you have is not exclusive.”

 

The scariest part about that conclusion was that he looked like he was actually clarifying something.

 

“You’re drunk,” you told him.  Clearly he had forgotten which Winchester he was talking to, and you would have laughed had he not been so serious about it.    

 

“Gabriel, I honestly have no idea what you’re going on about,” you told him when he just continued to stare.  “Why don’t we get you some water.”  

 

Wait.  Did water even work on angels?  

 

“ _ Don’t _ ,” he warned, eyes narrowing dangerously.  “His scent was all over your bed when I got here - all over  _ you.   _ I can still  _ feel him _ beneath your skin.”  

 

Well… how about that.  Suddenly Cas being the man of the hour and all the surrounding oddness made sense.  Not only did Gabriel think there was something going on between you and the other angel, he was jealous about it.   _ Really  _ jealous.

 

_ Holy shit.   _

 

“Gabe, I -- we --” you held your hand up, trying to communicate how this was all some big misunderstanding.  Your nervousness, however, came across more as fear as you took a step back, trying to escape the intense swirl of energy surrounding him.  

 

“I get it,” he told you, the dark edge receding some from his gaze.  “We all get lonely,” he managed a casual shrug, giving you a slight smile. “We all have needs.”  He stepped forward, closing the gap you’d just created and your tongue anxiously darted out across your lower lip.  His gaze was instantly drawn to the movement, and you couldn’t help but feel like you had somehow just provoked him as slow burning heat igniting across hazel depths.  

 

You stepped back again, knowing the closer he was, the harder it was for you to think straight.  

 

“Drinks or not, I’m thinking more clearly than I ever have,” he insisted, matching your step again with one of his own.  You’d never seen his gaze like this, like a fire was lit beneath the surface, turning whiskey molten from the inside out.  His want was so palpable, crossing the space between you before kissing over your skin in heated waves that ebbed and flowed.   

 

“I know you don’t want him,” he continued.  “When you needed help or answers, _I_ was the one you turned to first,” He reminded, continuing to force you back further across the room. “ _I_ was the one you called out for when famine brought you to your knees...”  

 

All you could do was swallow, breathe, and keep moving back...

 

“And you prayed for  _ my _ help when your brother’s became overbearing grizzlies and wouldn’t let you out of their sight…” 

 

… until you hit the wall, and found you had nowhere else to go.  He slowed his steps, but he didn’t stop them.  For every inch that slowly vanished, his yearning washed over you.  It sank beneath your skin, seeking out the slow burning embers of a desire you were trying very hard to keep contained.  

 

“I’m the one you always call for,” he murmured, voice dipping lower as his hands came up to meet the wall on both sides of you, trapping you in place.  “Because  _ I’m  _ the one you really want.”  

 

You could barely breathe he was so close, everything about him completely overwhelming you from the warmth radiating from his body to the buzzing of his energy now trapped in the small space between you, down to the way he smelled now that the scent of alcohol had diminished.

 

“When you’re sober, you may not want this,” you told him, searching for something to keep you anchored as you felt your resolve crumbling.  You could feel your own desire responding to his, not only growing but reaching out in response, as if trying to latch on to his sentiments and make them your own.    

 

He sensed the shift in you, victory glowing across features.  His lips pulled up into that trademark smirk and suddenly he was more himself than he’d seemed all night… save that manic undercurrent that still lingered in his eyes.  

 

“One never knows how long they’ll be here, sweetheart, so it’s often best to live in the moment,” his voice was reduced to a low rumble in the back of his throat, as that heated gaze pressed upon you.  Intuition flared, a heavy sensation taking the edge off what was happening as you realized you’d seen that look before.  

 

“Gabriel?” You breathed, your voice feeling heavy in your throat.

 

“Yes, sugar?” He replied, eyes dropping unconsciously to your lips as he wet his with anticipation.

 

You were almost afraid to ask, but this wasn’t some question you could just swallow.  “What do you know that I don’t?” 

 

“Do I have to tell you?”  He purred, leaning so close his nose almost touched yours.  “Or this time can I just show you?”  

 

_ Oh sweet jesus _ .  This was happening.  Gabriel was looking at you like he was going to devour every inch of you, regardless of what loomed on the horizon, and the last you checked, you were definitely not dreaming.

 

Knowing he wanted you was too much.  Hunger erupted, burning through you until your blood was singing through your veins for him.  Only as usual, you found yourself unable to do anything about it.  

 

God you were  _ such _ a coward. 

 

Your silence only encouraged him, lips tugging up on one side as he dropped his head lower.  Warmth curled over your ear as he released a slow, steady breath.  You shivered, goosebumps racing down your spine and over the back of your arms.  His lips hovered close,  _ so _ close, it was like you could feel them ghosting over your skin, trailing just behind his breath as he continued to release it down along the side of your neck.  

 

Gabriel was doing things to you without a single touch that some men couldn’t do in an entire night.   

 

“You are  _ so _ sensitive,” he said, voice husky with emotion.  “I’ve barely even touched you with my grace and you’re already on fire.”  

 

_ Grace _ .  That’s what you could feel on your skin.  You gasped as it shifted, trailing down the curve of your shoulder and dusting across your collarbone.  You didn’t even know that was possible.

 

Son of a bitch wasn’t playing fair.  

 

The breath and energy stopped for a moment, gold flashing up with question as he hovered near your throat.  You didn’t dare move.  You were torn between not wanting the madness to end and a part of you knowing that something still wasn’t quite right.  He knew something you didn’t and the hunter in you should have been pinning  _ him _ against the wall and insisting that he tell you.  

 

Except it was too late for that.

 

The moment his lips brushed against you it was over.  You inhaled sharply, energy sparking across skin and skittering down through your chest.  Your heart rate spiked, beating so fast with anticipation and need if you didn’t do something soon it was going to burst.  

 

It would be your luck to die of a heart attack before he’d even properly kissed you.     

 

His mouth came down against your pulse, a distinct thrumming shooting straight into your veins.  This time it was your lungs that felt the jolt, breath seizing in them, cutting off a groan that had started in your throat.  

 

He was killing you.  There was no way you were going to survive this… but it sure would be one hell of way to go.

 

“Please let me touch you,” he pleaded, his voice strained as he pulled back slightly.  “Father, I just need to touch you.  I need you to touch  _ me _ .”  

 

You could feel how tense his body was becoming, his arms nearly rigid.   You didn’t realize he’d been waiting for your permission.  In fact, you didn’t think Gabriel asked permission for anything.

 

The look of torment on his face wasn’t just about having to use restraint.  There was desperation woven into every action, every look, that went beyond pent-up desire.  You could see that now, and you found it too similar to your own feelings of loneliness that had steadily grown over the last several months.

 

_ He’s right _ , you realized.  You never knew what was coming and even when you did, it didn’t mean the odds were any more in your favor.  He was here  _ now, _ and wasn’t that what you had wanted?  Another chance to undo one of the few regrets you could not seem to shake?

You placed a hand over his cheek, touch lightly grazing over the contour of his face.  He froze, holding so still as if afraid the slightest movement might scare you away.  His eyes slipped shut, a ragged breath releasing as you slipped your fingers into his hair, tips drinking in the unexpected softness.  How many times had you imagined being the reason this perfect part of him became mussed?  

 

Feeling emboldened, your other hand came up to cup his jaw, thumb tracing lightly over the faint stubble across his chin.  His eyes slowly opened again and you found yourself staring into gold capped green seas caught up in a storm neither one of you had any hope of escaping.

 

“Tell me that you want this,” he insisted,and the amount of restraint he used seemed on the verge of being painful.  “Or tell me to stop.  Tell me to leave.” 

 

_ Tell me something _ his stare begged as it bore down upon you.  It took you a moment to realize he was giving you an out.  Was he having his own doubts?  The almost feral look in the darks of his eyes suggested otherwise, but he still hesitated, waiting for you along the edge of a precipice, one whose height you had no way of knowing.

 

Good thing you Winchesters were known for taking crazy, flying leaps.

 

You moved your thumb higher, touch feather-light as you traced the edge of his bottom lip.  He let out a noise caught somewhere between a groan and a growl, eyes edging further into wild territory as you continued to draw things out.  The power you were suddenly wielding was intoxicating.  

 

No wonder Gabriel loved to throw his around so much.  

 

“I want this, Gabe,” you told him, and never had you been more sure of anything in your life.  “I want you.”

 

And just like that, the game was over. 

 

Your lips found his in an ungentle embrace, teeth nearly knocking as he leaned forward to meet you.  The energy in the room rose to a dizzying crescendo, your heart keeping pace until everything seem to release, within you, around you, within Gabriel himself, all the tension dissipating from his frame.  

 

His hands slipped beneath the folds of your jacket, eagerly running along your sides.  His fingers brushed over your ribs, teasing along the edge of your breasts, touching them without touching.  You moaned as he took hold of your mouth and sucked, pulling your lower lip between his before teeth gave a nibble.  

 

Palms lowered once more, over to the dip of your waist before slipping around your lower back.  His fingers stretched lower, tips digging into flesh as they continued their exploration before really cashing in that rain check of his and fully cupping you.  

 

In the blink of an eye, he had you off the ground, effortlessly hoisting you up.  The way your body moved was as if it were an extension of his, legs immediately wrapping around his waist as your arm slipped around his shoulder for extra support.  He nestled against you, pinning your body to the wall and freeing his hands for further exploration.  

 

You could barely think, your mind overwhelmed by overload of sensations.  The warmth of him pressed against you, the way his grace had pleasant jolts streaking across your body wherever it touched, the way it couldn’t compare to his actual touch, fingers drinking in the feel of your skin as it slipped beneath your sweater, leaving sparks of heat in their wake as they teased their way along the waistband of your jeans.  

 

“Jesus,” you breathed, arching against him when he dragged his lips down, allowing you a moment to catch your breath.  

 

“The name’s Gabriel,” he reminded, voice almost a growl as teeth nipped possessively at your neck.  “And that’s the only name I expect to hear from that lovely mouth of yours.”  

 

This was not a request, and the way he took charge only had everything inside you reaching a boiling point.  You needed to feel  _ him _ against you, to feel his heat on your body, skin against skin, and neither one of you were going to be able to get out of any clothes like this.  

 

“Bed,  _ now _ ,” you commanded. You felt the briefest smile as his lips soothed over where teeth had certainly left their mark.  You grabbed his face, angling his mouth back up to yours as he pulled you away from the wall and backed slowly toward the mattress.  You couldn’t get enough of the feel of his lips, of the maddening hint of his taste as you swept your tongue across his bottom lip.

 

He moaned in response, so distracted with what you were doing that he didn’t realize how close you were to your destination.  The back of his legs unexpectedly hit the bed, sending you both tumbling backwards.  Instead of bouncing onto the mattress, however, you landed against something unexpectedly solid.  Your knees slammed hard against it, pain radiating through them, and by the jarring  _ oomph _ beneath you, you were pretty sure Gabriel’s back had absorbed most of his impact.  

 

“The hell,” you muttered, eyes flying open only to find yourself in complete darkness. Your hands came in contact with something smooth, something cold, something that definitely was  _ not _ your bed as you attempted to push yourself up.  The lights flickered on and suddenly you were hoping this was a dream after all.

 

It wasn’t possible.  Not only were you no longer in your hotel room, you weren’t even in the same town.  How you had ended back up at the Elysian Fields Hotel was beyond you, but you found yourself in the last place you ever wanted to be with Gabriel.  

 

He was splayed out, ash rising up around him in perfect alignment with where you’d expect his wings to be.  You swallowed, eyes riveted to the prints as you realized he was in the exact same position as when he died.  

 

Gabe looked up, your look of panic the first thing registering as his features fell.  

 

“Get us out of here,” you told him, dread pooling in your stomach, making it feel heavy.  

 

He sat up, features hardening as he looked around.   

 

“Gladly,” he said and just like that, the manic edge returned.  He raised his hand and snapped once.  Twice.  Three times, before that same look of fear you’d seen almost a year ago overtook his features.  

 

“It’s too late.  He won’t let me leave,” he told you, cracks beginning to show in his mask.  He suddenly looked guilty.   _ Very _ guilty... and very,  _ very  _ sorry.

 

His earlier explanation came back to you and fear raced down your spine.  

 

_ Please let us still be in the present.  Please let us still be in the present. _

 

A familiar slow-creeping dread trickled through you, the presence weighing down your insides until you felt rooted in place.  

 

“Tell me it’s not who I think it is,” you said, unable to give voice to the name that was the cause of so much of your pain.  

 

_ Because I can’t do this again. _

 

His hand came up to the side of your face, thumb stroking a path of reassurance as the sentiment slowly built in his gaze.  He opened his mouth, but whatever he said was lost over the clap of thunder that echoed across the room right before a blinding light engulfed you.  

 


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gabriel isn’t the only thing from the past being resurrected, and, once again, you find yourself smack dab in the middle of everything.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is tied with The Best Laid Plans as the favorite thing I’ve ever written. I had so much fun when I originally wrote it and, at the time, really got into the mind set. I actually didn’t end up changing much except for adding more names for Gabe to call Raphael, the conversations around which, have made this chapter that much more precious to me.

 

If Gabriel’s life were an autobiography, it would be called  _ The Reason We Can't Have Nice Things: A Study in Daddy Issues or Why I Hope I’m Adopted.   _ Because right now?  There wasn't a single one of his family members he wasn't considering shanking, his father most of all.  

 

Great.  Fine.  Wonderful.  The man had brought him back.  Gabriel would be sure to send Him an edible fruit arrangement the next time He was in town.  Laced with the plague and made entirely of zombie fruit aka durian (aka what  _ had _ his father been smoking when he decided anything consumable should naturally smell like rotting flesh?).

 

Why was Gabriel displeased one might ask? 

 

It might have had something to do with being turned into shish kebab so his brothers could compare dick sizes. (If anything  _ he  _ should be the winner in that department since he was the only one with the cojones to stand up to them).

 

It might have had something to do with his father being unable to do anything other than stand around, dick in hand, while shit went sideways because He was, in fact, just standing around, dick in hand.  

 

Maybe it was because the only being who gave a damn about Gabriel was a mother loving human who should hate his very existence after what he did to you and your brothers.  (The father loather in both of you, however, had created quite the bonding experience).  

 

Or maybe, just maybe, he couldn’t help but suspect there was some underlying motive to his sudden and fortuitous resurrection… like the fact that the heaven bus was on fire again and a fair number of his divine family was ready to drive it into the side of the earth.  

 

Because it had worked out so well for the God squad the first time around.  

 

When he found the earth was not, in fact, one giant smoking battlefield or a rage infested zombie land, he was impressed.  He assumed your family had managed to put Lucifer back in time out, though he never would have guessed the how.  

 

He also never would have guessed who Luce would end up with for roommates.  

 

He had been impressed with the creativity until he caught the look on your face.  Heaviness clung to the darks of your eyes making them seem endless.  He knew how cleverness could be a burden and it was like staring at his own reflection, enduring loneliness included.  

 

He had initially hoped one of you had gotten a few good sac taps in on his behalf, but now he simply hoped you had for your own closure.  Preferably before his brother was wearing yours, but it wasn’t like the sasquatch was going to feel much other than suffocating in his own body.  

 

Gabriel made a mental note to avoid ever explaining  _ that  _ perk of being a vessel to you.  

 

Fact check: being a vessel was terrible for the first thousand days or so.  After that it just tickled.  

 

However, he did have a lot to explain.   

 

He knew he would end up here sooner or later.  Well, not _ here  _ here.  He kind of understood his father having a blast from the past, considering the easiest way to pull his vessel to the present was to find the last place it had existed.  Being cockblocked and dropped right where Lucifer iced him, however, was an extra special touch of douchiness, and there was only one being left with that much power (and that much douche).

 

What he didn’t know is that you would end up here with him and  _ that  _ was what had him close to popping a vessel (literally  _ and _ figuratively speaking).  It hadn’t been  _ his  _ choice to be resurrected in the middle of a shitstorm, but he had been the one to drag you into it.  All because he had been impulsive, reckless, and unable to look past his own selfish desires.  

 

There went his argument for being adopted.  

 

He should have stayed away from you.  Then again, if it was a cosmic coincidence you both showed up at the same place at the same time, he’d put himself in the cage with Lucifer, Michael, and the youngest Winchester and dance the lambada with all them.  The only reason he’d come back to this funhouse of memories was to seal off the doors and windows just in case the rip in the time space continuum was a little more  _ wormy _ and less like the snapshot he’d initially assessed.  

 

The moment he spotted you, he should have just walked away.  He could have.  It wasn’t your grief that undid him.

 

Fact check: seeing your world bend beneath that weight did, however, do things to him he’d rather not think about. 

 

He had only seen you this distraught on one other occasion.  Famine had sunk its influence so deep inside you there was nothing other than a blinding need.  For what, Gabriel had never found out. The urgency in your prayer (along with the fact it was just his name over and over again) suggested he might want to get his winged ass down there pronto.  When he arrived, you’d been so consumed he’d had to put you to sleep before seeing your pain began to consume  _ him _ .    

 

Pain, though, was a timeless constant he could rationalize.  So long as there was life, there would be suffering.  What chance did he stand, however, against your guilt?   It pushed against the indifference he had tried to maintain, unknowingly slipping within his walls undetected, until it touched against his own guarded feelings of responsibility.  

 

Even then, Gabriel could have patched you up (emotionally), saw you out to your car, and went on to enjoy his limited existence at his own personal, completely conjured bunny ranch equipped with endless supplies of chocolate, whip cream, and other sensual sweets… along with eight different versions of what he called  _ not yous _ .  Those were women who had enough of your features for him to pretend, but not actual carbon copies.

 

Having no shame and being a super creep were definitely two different things.  

 

Not to mention how creepy _they_ were when he couldn’t get the personality traits down enough to not make a copy seem straight out of Invasion of the Body Snatchers… not that he’d ever tried or anything.

 

Fact check: Gabriel  _ had _ tried once.  For science. 

 

However any illusion of leaving had been shattered in one simple statement.  

 

_ Have that drink with me, Sheriff, and I will be. _

 

Green had inked in around his vision and he didn’t have to read your thoughts to know what your plans were.  The two of you were kindred spirits, your personalities sharing several different aspects. The main one was you liked pleasure in many forms and you weren’t ashamed to take it.  Whether it was ordering every pie in the diner when caught in the time loop (and then watching Dean’s stomach explode when you made a pie eating contest out of it) or distracting yourself by seducing the local sheriff, you used your senses to feel good in the moment.  

 

This moment, however, was wrong.  You sought distraction in his absence, only he was standing  _ right there _ , so close he had accidentally touched you when you stumbled back a bit (though he was still trying to figure out how  _ that  _ fluke had occurred considering he was pretty sure the only thing close enough had been his wing).

 

Fact check: the left one did tend to get a little handsy.  

 

But that was besides the point.  You were looking to get lost in a man from a generation whose idea of a good time was a cup of tea, an episode of Matlock, and a nap.  

 

Despite the sheriff being apprehensive, Gabriel saw the flash of loneliness that pushed through the man’s gaze.  It wouldn’t take much to get him to cave.  Even if he put up a good fight, you were young, pretty, and way too smart for your own good.  He wouldn’t stand a chance.

 

Neither did Gabriel when he began to imagine all the things the man would do to you, all the things you would  _ let _ the sheriff do, and it would all be on his conscience, because it was technically his fault you went on grieving.  

 

At least, that’s what he told himself.  Admitting the first thing on his mind since getting a reboot was to make you his in every way he’d failed to before was a tad more insightful than he cared to be.  The whole thing was enough to drive him to drink. 

 

Fact check: while there was no driving, there was a whole lot of drink.  The part about making the sheriff run circles and question his own sanity was just an added bonus.  

 

He needed something to calm the clamor in his head, except it had just made him sloppy if he had missed his brother’s presence slipping into town.  Regret and guilt weighed heavy on gold as he took in the mounting dread on your features.  His weakness had brought you here, and it was up to him to see it did not take you down with him.  

 

He wanted to tell you as much, but whether it was his own streak of daddy issues or the fact that even the most meaningful relationship he’d managed had ended with a good old-fashioned stabbing ( _ thanks, Kali, always knew you were kind of a bitch) _ , his words fell short as they tended to in these situations.  

 

Touch, however, was something he managed to do well.  Tips up knuckles drank in the skin along the side of your face, savoring the feel one last time.  He channeled what reassurance he could into the gesture, hoping to calm the panic he felt buzzing through you so you would hear him when he told you to run.  The command, however, became lost as his brother made his grand entrance, confirming he did, in fact, have the worst timing in the universe.  

 

“Gabriel,” a deep voice boomed over the lingering echoes of thunder as the the silhouette of a man manifested in the center of fading light.  

 

“Raphael,” Gabriel drawled, looking up at his brother.  “This is an awkward surprise.”  

 

“Someone’s clearly never heard of knocking,” you muttered, and he felt your relief in a momentary release of tension before everything tightened again.  You slid off his lap, and the absence of your body rang cold as the sudden chill in the room rushed in to take the place of your warmth.  He could see the gears in your mind turning, gaze appraising as you took in his brother’s stoic features.  

 

Gabriel stepped forward, subtly placing himself between you and the entity who should henceforth be known as the  _ giant dick _ for being the the biggest cockblock in creation.

 

“I am disappointed, brother,” The meter-long man-dong said, eyes flicking to Gabriel in obvious dismissal of your presence.   “You must have heard what is happening.”

 

Oh, Gabriel had heard all right.  Angel radio was a complete cluster these days.  The last time it had been this chaotic was when he’d tricked Michael and Biggus Dickus into believing there was a demon incursion about to launch on heaven led by rogue angels… because was inciting the Crusades as a test of faith (and act of boredom)  _ really _ necessary?

 

“Let me guess.  Thing’s not going so well for you, bro?” A glimmer of a sardonic grin flashed across his casual mask, tone pushing the fringe of disdain as he arched a brow.  

 

“No.  But you already knew that, and yet your first inclination is to dally with this  _ human _ .”  

 

Apparently Gabriel wasn't the only one unimpressed with the situation.

 

“I get we’re a little behind the times right now, but what year are  _ you  _ stuck in?  1905?” He taunted.  

 

“Watch your tone,” Cock McBlockins warned and Gabriel nearly rolled his eyes.  He wondered if his father had meant to make all three of his brothers into prideful pricks with their own mini god complexes or if they had just naturally become those without anyone to challenge their authority.   __

 

“Or what, you’ll shiv me too?” He demanded.  It wasn’t like he was bitter or anything, being put in this position again.  

 

Fact check: he was  _ plenty  _ bitter and uber pissed. 

 

If anyone asked, however, the official story was he just didn’t think Raphael had it in him to be such an ass about it.  

 

“The only reason she continues drawing breath is because  _ I  _ will it,” the monstrous manpole informed him.  The older archangel’s wings flared slightly in warning, his presence pushing against Gabriel’s as it wrestled for dominance within the room.  The youngest pushed back, his own pride unwilling to back down so easily.  To do so would be to show weakness, and his weakness had put you in enough danger already today.  

 

Tips of fingers touched against his lower back, acting as pinpoints of pressure and shifting his focus back to you.  If he had to guess, instinct spurred your touch, and perhaps the need for reassurance.  There’s no way you could have perceived the pissing contest currently happening, but enough of something skittered across your radar to tip you off to the danger.

 

Or perhaps you were telling him to quit dicking around already and figure out an escape plan.

 

“What do you want?” Gabriel asked, backing down.  The degenerate disco stick eyed him as if it were a trick a moment before that dark, baleful gaze slipped over his shoulder and landed on you.  

 

“What is she to you?” Dickus Maximus demanded.

 

“I mean I  _ was  _ trying to have a bit of fun but  _ somebody  _ crashed that party,” he gave a dramatic look skyward as if asking if even his father could believe the nerve.  “But really, what are any of them to us in the long run?”

 

“An incessant nuisance,” the dickasaurus rex said flatly.

 

“I was thinking more like a beautiful distraction,” Gabriel replied smoothly though it felt like he had a mouth full of sand. “But just a distraction, nonetheless… no offense sweetheart.”  He turned, giving you a flashy-and completely false- apologetic smile for good measure.  

 

He didn’t mean it.  He might not be ready to admit you were more than a passing obsession, but on a visceral level he was hooked, his stomach suddenly a gymnastics Olympian as it somersaulted its way through a sudden bout of ire-tipped nerves.  

 

If the USS Douche Canoe ruined this for him, everybody’s ship was going down, starting with the dickhead in front of him and heading straight to the top, where all the bullshit started.  

 

“No offense,  _ sweetheart _ , but I’m not looking to date a giant dick anytime soon,” sarcasm painted your words, streaking across lips in a smile you flashed that was just as insincere.  

 

Gabriel took it as a good sign you hadn’t missed a beat with your response.  Mostly because that was one less thing to worry about while he figured out how to get you out of there.  There’d be plenty of time for doubt later if he survived.  In fact, it was one of his favorite pastimes.

 

Fact check: it was  _ nobody’s  _ favorite pastime.

 

“Well, aren’t we just two peas in a pod,” he drawled, brows raising as he dropped his hands to his hips.  “Humans, I tell you.  Just when you think you’re the one using them, they’re actually using you.”

 

“I’ve asked myself many times what would I do should you choose deceit over honest discourse,” The dick with a dictionary began, his gaze drifting back to Gabriel’s.  “I think I have my answer.”  

 

The look in his eyes remained neutral, pushing beyond the fringes of weary into outright exhaustion, but it was that telltale half lift of lips, smirking smugly, that gave away the game plan.  Unfortunately, that plan looked to be you.  

 

With a snap, you disappeared from out of the side of Gabriel’s vision only to reappear in front of the increasingly annoying third wheel to the party.  The contrast of the dark fingers wrapped around your pale throat was startling.  Or, it could just be the fact his brother was definitely gripping that part of you quite snugly in warning. 

 

“What weaknesses lay beneath, I wonder…” the wondrous one-eyed yogurt slinger mused, thumb dragging slowly across the surface of your throat.  The movement was callous, insinuating no more than the danger you were in.  Defiance darkened your eyes, your lips pulling back in silent snarl as if he’d touched you in a far different manner and it caught Gabriel off guard.

 

He looked more closely, peeling back the layers of atoms and energy until gossamer strands of grace glistened ethereal in the dim lighting.  You were surrounded by it, wisps of it ghosting over your upper body as if seeking some sort of entrance.  Anger crackled hot beneath his skin, causing his energy to spark slightly between the tips of his fingers.  

 

How  _ dare  _ Raphael touch you that way.

 

He had  _ no right _ to touch you with his grace.  He had no business inside your mind, though by how he was concentrating on the area between your shoulders and waist he was after something much more integral.  

 

Why he’d want a peek at your soul was beyond Gabriel, but it was a whole lot of  _ nothing good _ for you.  

 

“Stop,” He warned, clenching down hard and doing his best to reign in his temper.  He was aware that this might not be anything other than a test (which he was clearly failing).  If his brother was prodding for sore spots, boy had he found one, especially when Gabriel watched as the older archangel pushed his energy beneath your skin in a wholly ungentle way.

 

There was no stopping his fury as your features grew taut with pain, your torment pushing out your throat in a sudden cry as light emanated out from where the grace had entered. The ground beneath his feet began to tremble, tables and chairs beginning to clatter as they bounced around, skittering slowly across the floor.  

 

“I said  _ stop _ ,” he repeated, the rumble growing louder as the entire building began to sway.  Windows shattered around the room and Raphael was lucky he didn’t find himself on the receiving end of an incredibly angry smite.  His brother exhaled a long, heavy sigh through his nose, withdrawing all his energy in a single instant and letting you drop to the floor.  

 

“Who is she to you?”  Disappointment wove through the gigantic pork sword’s words and Gabriel held back a snort.  Like the asshat had any right to ask anything about you anymore.  

 

“None of your business,” Gabriel hissed.

 

It was the wrong answer.  

 

Apparently a good old fashioned ass kicking was next on the list, your body catching some serious air before it came slamming down on the top of the tables.  Wood snapped beneath the force and you continued to roll across the floor a few feet from the impact.  

 

Gabriel reached out with his grace, searching for the familiar, chaotic buzz that was often your mind.  It was a much dimmer, snarling mass of tangled thoughts at the moment.   _ Stay down _ he told you, hoping you were conscious enough to hear him.  

 

You were and, as usual, you were intent on doing just the opposite of what you should be.  You pushed yourself up, eyes flashing with determination as you appraised the situation.   _ Keep him occupied _ you prayed, silently pulling yourself to your feet before slowly edging your way toward the back exit.  

 

Good.  Maybe you could sneak out while he and his brother got down to business.

 

“Would you like to gamble on what strike three means for her?” 

 

“All right, all right,” he said, putting his hands up in surrender.  “No need to pull a Lucifer and break everyone else’s toys when you don’t get your way.  Besides, we all know what happens when you start throwing temper tantrums with the Winchesters around.  Well, Michael does, anyway.”

 

He smiled widely, enjoying the way his remarks were beginning to get under Coitis Interruptis’ skin.

 

“But if you simply must know… she was the only one that gave two shits about me when everyone was trying to make me choose sides.  It wasn’t about _tradition_ or _the greater good_.  It was about _me._ She believed in me to make the right decision because _I was_ _good enough_ ,” he began, past pushing against present as a familiar slow burning anger flared back to life.  

 

“So  _ no _ .  She’s not a distraction.  She’s a friend.  A  _ good  _ one, and she’s a good person who doesn’t deserve to be caught up in our bullshit again.  So I’m asking you, as your brother, to leave her out of this.” 

 

Three things became apparent as Gabriel stopped his rambling.  

 

First, this was probably the most genuine interaction he’d had with cocksmiter number three since his father had left. 

 

Second, because it  _ was _ sincere, it didn’t even register on his brother’s bullshit detector which, in turn, sent it flying off the charts by the look he received.  

 

Third, and most important, you had stopped.  You were now just standing.  In the middle of the room.  Staring.  Mouth parted slightly when really you needed to be moving -  _ why the hell weren’t you still moving?  _

 

Gold snapped up to your gaze, flicking toward the door insistently.   _ Keep going  _ he urged when you simply looked conflicted.  You hesitated another moment before continuing on. 

 

_ Humans _ .

 

“I mean I know it’s a novel idea, but why don’t we try keeping the crazefest in the family, just this once?”  He continued, aware of his brother’s unwavering stare.  He was also aware of how close you were to the back door.  Your hand reached for the handle, movements silent as you gave a push… only for nothing to happen.  

 

Someone clearly had some control issues to work on.  

 

“I will never understand your loyalty to these creatures,” the disdain dripping from the colossal cockmuffin’s words was palpable.  “They  _ are _ weak and flawed.”

 

“What did you say?” Gabriel demanded, eyes narrowing.  Lucifer had said those very words… how had his brother known?

 

“Despite our differences, Gabriel, I came here to talk,” the humongous spawn hammer implored.  “The rebel has gathered a surprising amount of support, though it is only a matter of time before he is defeated.”

 

“Well, sounds like you have it all figured out.  Best of luck to you,” he said, taking a few steps back toward the front entrance.  If he wasn't going to let you go, Gabriel could at least try and move the party.  Thunder echoed overhead and the room suddenly leapt to life with a gathering energy just before a bolt of lightning pierced the ceiling.  It struck right behind Gabriel’s back, stopping him in his tracks and scorching the floor.  

 

Apparently he wasn't the only one with a penchant for theatrics.  

 

“You’re either with me or against me.”  

 

Gabriel had been wrong.  His brother wasn't a giant dick.  He was a whole bag of them.

 

“Well, when you put it  _ that  _ way,” Gabriel jeered, taking a step forward.  “So, how do you want to do this?  Should I just whip mine out?  Do we compare sizes first?”  

 

A familiar smell drifted under his nose, carrying hints of metal and life in its purest form.  He glanced up to find you with your back against the door, hand obscured behind you and he had a fairly good idea what you were doing.  The problem was if he did, then so did the massive heat-seeking moisture missile.

 

If you both lived through this, he and you were going to have a long, snarky chat about the limitations of humans, and the nearly limitless power of archangels and why  _ the former didn't need to worry about saving the latter _ .  

 

“Blood carries a very distinct smell,” Skippy McSexkiller announced, turning your way, dark eyes blazing bright against the insolence you were hastily painting across the door.  “Yours especially.”  

 

“It’s a wonder you’re not a hit with the ladies,” Gabriel taunted, trying to draw his attention.  It didn’t work.  “Hey, Raphie, can I call you Raphie?” That did the trick; the archangel paused momentarily, giving him a baleful look.  

 

“I tire of your games, brother, and theirs.”  Boy, did his brother look tired.  Not just the soul weary I’ve-been-alive-since-the-dawn-of-time exhaustion that timeless beings tended to get from time to time.  This was a whole other ballgame.  

 

_ Gabriel, tell me how to do this without hurting you.   _

 

Apprehension filled your prayer as it floated to the forefront of his consciousness, and from the corner of his eyes he could see you were almost done.  He found it awfully touching you didn’t want to blast his hide when he knew that if your brothers were there, he’d have been rocketed halfway to Texas by now.  

 

Unfortunately, Scrote-totes MaGoo continued to designate the hotel as a no fly zone, leaving you both without a lot of options. 

 

At least it would only hurt for a moment.  

 

Fact check: it was only for a moment, but it also was a whole lot of hurt. 

 

_ Catch you on the flip side, sweetheart. _

 

“Human idioms,” the gigantic tube steak sighed and the easygoing mask Gabriel kept in place began to slip.  “I’ll never understand your preference for them.  Or why you’d think me fool enough to fall for your little trap.”

 

Panic sparked in Gabriel’s chest, skating across the thickening tension in the air before slamming into your system.  You frantically finished the last symbol on the ward before bringing your hand down in the center.  He braced himself, only the blast never came.  He looked over to see the sigil had vanished.  

 

_Oh sweet bearded man with bad teeth but good religious messages._ This was happening.  His brother was looking at you like he was going to split every atom in your body no matter what his younger brother wanted and last Gabriel checked, that was not on his agenda.  

 

“Hey douchebag,” he called out, pulling his blade from out of his jacket.  “Let’s get this show on the road.”

 

The other archangel didn’t even bat an eye.  He didn’t even give his younger sibling a courtesy snap.  The only reason Gabriel felt the smite coming was because the air always tasted like it was burning the moment before it hit.  

 

A bright, blinding light poured down through the ceiling.  Every hair stood on edge, stretching upward toward the concentration of energy before everything suddenly released and the blast had his brains pushing down through his nostrils.  

 

Fact check: Gabriel’s brain was not actually being forced out his nose, but it certainly felt like it. 

 

The extreme downward pressure, however, was enough to immobilize his mind and force him down to his knees. 

 

Apparently his brother was done dicking around.  

 

“Was the pain you suffered earlier not tangible enough?” Raphael’s voice managed to push through the mental haze.  “Perhaps you need a reminder of your own past.”  

 

Gabriel’s eyes fluttered open, details around him fuzzy as he struggled to bring the world back into focus.  

 

Your pain made for a great motivator.  

 

He heard your cry go up and the visceral response that tore through him was enough to help him gather his wits.  Your anguish was tangible even from across the room, tiny cuts and enlarged gashes singing in a discord of physical suffering that clashed with the previous chorus that rang from the very essence in your soul crying out. 

 

He looked over to see you on your knees, red painting your torment in grisly splashes through your clothing.  There were streaks across your legs, your right thigh practically saturated.  It was harder to tell what was behind your sweater, but by the sheer smell of iron drifting across the room, there was a fair amount that had yet to show through.  You cradled your left arm closer to your body, droplets trickling out from beneath the cuff of your coat, sliding steadily off tips of fingers with a steady _pat, pat, pat._

 

“Is that why you brought me here?” Gabriel demanded, trying get the giant phallus turned back in his direction.  “Because you want to remind me what happens if I choose the right side?”

 

_ Pat, pat, pat.   _

 

“There’s a certain symmetry.  Beginning where you ended.  Ending where you began,  should it come to that.”

 

_ Pat, pat, pat.  _

 

He should have seen it sooner.  After helping lock Auntie Amara away, the mammoth meat constrictor had been all about balance, about the universe having some sort of grand plan and synergy to it.  After their father left, however, things began to become a little less about cosmic harmony and a little more  _ obsessive-compulsive _ .  

 

_ Pat, pat, pat. _

 

“From where I’m standing?  More like a certain  _ douchiness _ ,” he turned, spitting out a mouthful of red from the blood that trickled down the back of his throat.  

 

“Enough!”  Raphael roared.  “I will not stand here and listen to your drivel while our home is under attack.”

 

_ Pat, pat, pat.   _

 

Your heart began to slow, the change in pace nearly imperceptible at first.  For every beat you lost, his seemed to pick it up.  You were bleeding out and while you had a little time, you were going to be drier than a fruitcake in February if he couldn’t get to you soon.  

 

Good thing he had a trick or two up his sleeve.  

 

“Heaven is burning, brother.  Michael is locked away no different than Lucifer.  Doesn’t that mean anything to you?”

 

“It might if that was what this was really about, but we both know that’s not the case,” Gabriel said, slowly pulling himself to his feet.  

 

“Paradise was within our grasp... until  _ you  _ betrayed us to the Winchesters and told them how to put Lucifer back.”  

 

Fact check: the only betrayal being served was by Lucifer, who couldn’t help but turn everything into an ice cold fuckery of a dish.  

 

“Then kill me,” he said, tossing his blade aside.  Rather, his shadow twin did.  He wasn’t  _ that  _ stupid… and you were beginning to look awfully pale.  He appeared in front of you, crouching down until he was eye level with you.  You hadn’t moved.  He wasn’t sure you were able to by the number of wounds you had.  

 

“I’d rather have you by my side,” his brother continued from across the room.  He was vaguely aware his double had given one of the many pre-selected responses from his repertoire.  Besides the fact it made things easier, he’d rather be focusing on you anyway.  His hands tended to get a little less smitey when he did.    

 

He had to be careful, though.  If he released too much energy, Frodo Douchbaggins would be on him like nazgul on the one ring.  He idly wondered if that made him Aragorn in this situation.   _ Probably Eowyn. _  She did have the most fabulous hair out of all of them.  

 

Fact check: Gabriel did have pretty fabulous hair.  

 

Your eyes met his with something too shrouded for him to read.  The pain was too prevalent and he wondered how much you were even able to think beyond it.  Your lips parted as if to speak, and he held a finger up for you to be quiet before his gaze dropped down to the pool of blood on the floor.  

 

This mess was as much his fault as the titanic flesh rod’s, and when this was all said and done,

Gabriel was going to go full Lorena Bobbitt and remove him from existence.

 

“This is your chance, Gabriel, to make up for your past indiscretions…”

 

The only thing he needed to make amends for was sitting right in front of him.  The longer things dragged out, however, the less likely he’d get the chance.  

 

Fact check:  the chances one of you were getting fucked tonight were looking pretty good.  

 

Bonus fact check: it wouldn’t nearly be as fun as either of you had planned.

 

Fingers drifted along the swollen contour of your cheek, tenderly stroking away the puffiness as he released his energy. He didn’t need to physically touch you in order to heal, but what did he have to lose anymore?  

 

Your gaze drifted sideways, widening slightly in surprise and doubt slipped in through the cracks in his armor.  Perhaps he’d been mistaken.  Perhaps things were more one sided than he realized.  Perhaps you had been the one with too much drink tonight.  

 

He tried to focus on his brother droning on in the background, clamping down on his rising disappointment.  Wank, wank, atonement.  Wank, wank, duty.  It was the same hackneyed setup where humanity became the punchline.  

 

His family really needed to add some new jokes to their lineup.

 

You released a slow breath and his attention shifted back to you as you tried to move.  The hand you raised was shaky, slowed by the damage he was still trying to undo.  It was obvious you were struggling to even raise it this far, but it was far enough.  Tips of fingers slipped beneath his coat, tentatively tracing along the partially undone line of buttons at the top of his shirt before settling your palm against his chest.  

 

Your eyes settled in the same spot, narrowing intently.  He’d seen you enough times to know it was the look you wore when ferreting out an answer in the middle of a clusterfuck of information.  What you were seeking and what you found, were simply beyond him in that moment.  You did find  _ something _ , however, and it wasn’t the slow growing heaviness of finality Gabriel overtaking over him.  

 

Despite the snarling mass of emotions he felt within you, your eyes began to brighten, shaking off some of their former weight.  The intensity made him take a closer look.  A slow burning ire had sparked somewhere along the way, determination causing the edges of your gaze to grow hard, keeping the flames contained.  Your anger wasn’t surprising, but the fear that seemed to be fueling it was.  

 

He wanted to reassure you that things would be fine, but what would be the point of lying?  Besides, you’d just find something to break on him if he did.  Though he imagined with the way things were going there might not be anything left to break by the end of the night.

 

Your brows drew together suddenly, a frown tugging at your lips.  For a moment he thought Raphael might have caught on, but he could hear the prick yammering on while his shadow tossed well placed barbs and used misdirection to keep the conversation going.

 

Your eyes also never left Gabe’s, making the source of your displeasure rather clear.  Or rather unclear, considering he hadn’t a clue what he could have done considering he hadn’t had the chance to open his mouth yet.  

 

Then again, he had dragged you into this mess.  Perhaps you were finally getting on the same page as the rest of the world in realizing what a giant fuck up he was.

 

Your hand clenched around his shirt and while he was surprised at how quickly your strength had returned, he was completely thrown for a loop when you yanked him forward, lips demanding as they moved over his.  Passion won out over resignation as energy spiked down from your mouth straight into his chest, sparking outward back into your hand and continuing the loop.  

 

Apparently, you were of the mind set that neither one of you had died yet.  

 

You kept things brief because, unlike previous assumptions, you understood the importance of  _ not  _ dallying.  When he looked at you again, the fear had melted away to promise - so much promise for so many,  _ many  _ things burned wickedly in your gaze.  

 

If that wasn’t motivation to survive this disaster of a night, then he deserved to be put out of his misery.  

 

Fact check: he most certainly was  _ not _ dead already from the waist down. 

 

_ Show time _ he decided, giving you a reassuring smirk before taking the place of his double once again.  Not that he had a clue what to do still, but he did have a little hope, thanks to you.  

 

“Let’s stop beating around the bush, hmmm?” Gabriel suggested.  “I know what you’re really up to.  This isn’t about heaven.  This isn’t about family or atonement.  This is about you just wanting it to be done.  No matter the cost.”

 

“Yes,” his enormous deep-V-diver of a brother admitted.  “I am tired, brother.  So very tired and I know that you are, too.  This is our chance to go back to our real home.  If my cold heart still yearns for it, I know yours must as well.”

 

Ancient sentiments almost forgotten stirred deep beneath the surface and Gabriel’s confidence slipped.  If how he looked on the surface mirrored what was going on internally, he would have been running around the room, flailing wildly as he attempted to outrun an imaginary wildfire.  

 

These were not things he wanted to feel again.  Not tonight.  Not with Raphael.   _ Not ever.   _

 

Fact check: he would rather douse himself with holy fire and do the hellfire rumba than go down that road again.

 

_ Keep him distracted _ .  

 

Your prayer rang out as a lifeline, drawing him back from uncertain waters before he became lost in the riptide.  He didn’t dare check to see what you were up to with how intently his brother’s stare was fixed upon him.

 

“Humans have a word for that you know,” he said, pity unknowingly softening his demeanor.  

 

The Herculean skin flute gave a heavy sigh, weariness returning and casting shadows on his face far darker than before.  “I am aware of it, and I suppose you’re right.  We cannot go back.  But we can still end this miserable existence for everyone.”  

 

Every time it seemed like they were about to have a moment, twizzletits had to go and open that big mouth of his.

 

Gabriel sincerely hoped this wasn’t how everyone felt about him.

 

Fact check: it kind of was. 

 

I’m going to tell you the same thing I told that big bro of ours,” Gabriel announced.  “I love you, Raphael, you are my brother, but you are a great big bag of dicks.”  He gave a dramatic pause, watching as fury erupted from his brother’s gaze.  

 

“Actually, I lied.  You’re an even  _ bigger  _ one for trivializing all the sacrifices made to stop this madness,  _ mine  _ included, by starting it all over again.  What is it with all of you throwing a tantrum if you don’t get your way? For father’s sake, grow a pair! Sac up and move on! The world isn’t as terrible if you’d give it a chance to show you its beauty.”

 

“This world is no longer beautiful.  It is full of ugliness, disappointment, flawed intentions, but most of all, it is filled with suffering.  If you love them so much, would you not want their pain to end?”

 

Gabriel almost winced.  The more he listened, the less he was certain his brother was, in fact, a bag of dicks.  If anything, it sounded like the archangel needed to go out, drink a liquor store, get laid, then go on a world tour and take in the sights.  He knew serving under Michael was no picnic, but he never imagined it would actually suck the soul out of someone.    

 

“To live is to suffer,” Gabriel conceded, “But it’s also so much more than that.  Yes, they’re flawed.  They can be vicious and bloodthirsty, but how is that any different than us?  Why can’t any of you see how much good is also in them?  How much they try and more importantly  _ forgive _ ?” 

 

Because forgiveness was not a staple at any of  _ their _ Sunday dinners. 

 

“I am tired of this life,” Raphael repeated, the lines suddenly evident across his vessel’s face.  “And so very tired of all these games.  I know where your heart truly lies.”

  
The part of Gabriel in question gave a stutter, past overlaying present in a terrifying way.  It wasn’t so much the echo of Lucifer’s words that disturbed him so much as the fact that you were there, right where he’d been, body crouched low as you slowly crept in for the kill.  

 

“I’m sorry.”  The older archangel meant it.  It didn’t make him any less of a fuck stick for what he was about to do.  

 

Fact check: Raphael was definitely a big ol’ bag of dicks. 

 

Desperation forced Gabriel’s hand and he leapt forward.  Once again, his brother anticipated the move, deftly sidestepping the blade before grabbing him by the arm and throwing him into you.  You nearly filleted him by mistake, your weapon catching him across his shoulder as you scrambled to get it out of the way.  

 

So much for plan B.  

 

Gabriel felt the telltale gathering of energy over his head and he had just enough time to throw you back before heaven’s energy came barreling down upon him.  It didn't matter how old he got, he would never get used to the feeling of a smite.  Though that might have been his brother’s goal by how many were sent down upon him.  Wave after wave of energy crashed over him and he was certain this was it… until it suddenly wasn’t.    

 

By the time the world stopped spinning (and ringing… and twisting… and shouting…) Gabriel looked up to see his brother booting you across the floor like a soccer ball.  

 

“What will it take for you to realize how weak and unworthy they are?”  Raphael demanded, sending another burst down.  Something popped inside his skull, though it was likely just his brain falling in on itself.  There seemed to be enough of  _ something  _ leaking out his nose and down the back of his throat again.

 

There was another loud pop followed by more ringing in his ears, and for a minute he assumed he really had taken one too many smites to the head for his vessel to hold.  When the sound continued, he realized the noise wasn’t coming from inside him, but from across the room.  You had your gun drawn and trained on his brother as more shots peppered the silence, making the archangel’s vessel shake slightly with each bullet that pierced it.  

 

He’d said it before and he’d say it again: you had the most abysmal sense of self-preservation, even for a Winchester.  

 

Fact check: the above statement was completely true.  Though scrambled as Gabriel’s mind was, he had the wherewithal to realize what you were doing was solely to draw fire away from him.

 

He shook his head, pity pushing through the lingering pain.  How could his brother bear witness to this and still not be swayed?  

 

“From where I’m standing?  They’re more worthy than we are,” he said, smiling slightly as his eyes met yours. No one else was willing to step this far onto the wrong side of sane for him.  Not his family.  Not yours.  It only reaffirmed his stance that you all deserved better than what his father had originally planned.   

 

“She has ruined you,” Dickbag McFlaccidcock declared, tone insinuating if anyone were to be pitied, it should be Gabriel.  Unfortunately, there was a reason for that.  

 

Gabe watched as your hand began to shake, your eyes widening at the realization you were no longer in control of your weapon.  Slowly, you began to turn it on yourself, your other hand coming up to try and alter its course without much luck.  

 

He didn’t even get the chance to try and attack his brother before another blinding round of pain echoed through his skull.  

 

“You will watch this,” the patron saint of douchbaggery insisted.  “Because  _ your _ foolishness is the reason she must die.”

 

A crushing weight bore down upon his shoulders, pinning him in place.  Desperation clawed viscerally through his stomach, his wings shooting out to full length as he tried to break free from his brother’s grasp.  The uber smiting he’d received, however, had stripped him of most of his strength.  He was essentially leashed and there was nothing worse than feeling caged and helpless. 

 

Except maybe watching the one good thing in his life be destroyed because of him.  

 

“You want me to stand with you - fine.  I’ll be your right hand man.  The heavens will sing of our unstoppable duo - Gabriel and Raphael - or Raphael and Gabriel, whatever you prefer,” he begged, willing to say whatever his brother needed to hear if it meant buying you more time.  He could worry about the finer points of how to dig himself out later.    

 

“This is for your own good,” Raphael insisted.

 

It seemed his brother had half a brain after all, though his heart was clearly still AWOL.  

 

_ No no no no no.  Think, Gabriel, think, think, think... _

 

_ Fuck, fuck, god damn, fucking fuck - think, y/n, think, think, think… _

 

Your thoughts collided, bursting through the increasingly tense silence.  Your mounting panic pushed through his battered mind, allowing him to unintentionally pick up on what was flying through yours.  As usual, you were the only two in the room even remotely on the same page. 

 

Fact check: that page was titled  _ Now’s a Good Time to Panic. _

 

The gun reached its destination against your temple _ ,  _ desperation hitting its peak as both your mantras came to a deafening halt.  

 

“It’s not your fault, Gabe,” you told him, doing your best to hide your fear and failing miserably at it.  

 

He nearly broke in that moment.  Here you were, about to die because of him, and your final thought was to pardon him _. _  It barely made a dent in his brother’s armor, and that’s when he realized just how lost the archangel had become.

 

Gabriel renewed his efforts, straining against his ethereal bonds.  He clenched down on his jaw, so hard he might have heard a few of his teeth crack.  It was the only way to keep his desperation from spilling out over his lips.  The last thing you needed to see was him reduced to a babbling mess.  

 

_ No, no, no, no, please, father, _ **_no_ ** _ … _

 

“It’s ok,” you told him.

 

Fact check: things were so far from ok that Gabriel was certain no one would be leaving this room alive if you died.  

 

You closed your eyes, but he had no choice but to watch.  His heart hit a fever pitch, mirroring his own struggles to escape as it hammered away against his chest.  There was nothing he could do and he dropped to his knees, everything shattering as reality bore down upon him.  

 

He wasn’t strong enough.  He couldn’t save you.  You were going to die and  _ it was all his fault.   _

 

“I’m sorry,” his voice wavered, thick with emotion.  

 

Gabriel’s world came to a screeching halt as his brother forced you to pull the trigger.  

 


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gabriel's world was one woman, and he was certain it was ending.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Damn my dudes, I CANNOT believe I forgot to post this chapter and the next. I posted this forever ago to tumblr (@thewhiterabbit42). Apologies it never made it over here.
> 
> I, uh, also apologize for what comes next.

Gabriel’s world was one woman and he was certain it was ending.

 

Everything from the breath in his lungs to the frantic beating of his heart froze as he watched you pull the trigger.  Whether a trick of his mind or Raphael’s own warped sense of poetic justice, time seemed to slow to where he could hear every piece of the weapon as it went through its motions.  

 

Inaudible groans as a spring began to coil, growing more taut as the trigger slid inward.  The creaking of metal grinding against the tiniest dirt particles trapped along the hammer when it eased its way back.  How that same spring released, metal dancing along metal as a concentrated burst of energy sprang out once the trigger reached its destination.  The hammer lurched forward, slamming down hard and he could hear every tiny spark that sprang up. Then fizzled out. Metal kissed steel, the firing pin striking the edge of the bullet right as you flinched… 

 

… only to have the entire thing exit the side of the chamber, instead of just the casing.  

 

_ Jesus fuck.  _

 

At this point he wasn’t sure whose thought that was.  

 

_ Click _ .

 

You pulled the trigger again, another bullet leaping out the side of the gun, unused.  

 

_ Click _ .

 

Gabriel’s heart began to slow as his adrenaline and fear abated. Anger blossomed in its wake, carving its way brightly through his chest as Raphael continued to try and finish the job.

 

_ Click.  Click. Click.   _

 

Your hand finally dropped to your side, body visibly shaking as you let out a rush of air through your mouth. 

 

“You think you’re being clever?” Raphael demanded, his own fury rising as his gaze swung back to the other archangel.  

 

To be honest, Gabriel hadn’t been thinking much of anything.  The knowledge that his strength was no match for his brother’s, coupled with his restraints, had resulted in a blinding panic.  All he’d been able to focus on was being free so he could get to you.

 

Messing with the gun so it couldn’t work?  Hell of a lot smarter.

 

“The only thing you’ve done is prolong her suffering.”  Raphael extended a finger and one of the bullets rose up from the floor.  Neither Gabe nor you had a chance to grasp what was happening before his brother sent it hurtling forward with the flick of his wrist.  

 

Everything on your features went still as it struck the center of your forehead.

 

“ _ No!”   _ Gabriel’s world shattered in a gut-wrenching cry.  Just like before, he couldn’t help but hear every moment of it, and with every molecule of you that was destroyed, a piece of him went with it.  Every splinter of bone and separation of tissue wrenched through him as the bullet pierced the front of your head, ripping through what Gabriel considered the most beautiful part of you, tearing your life along with it. 

 

Whether it was his own desire to see you alive or if it was his instincts sensing actual tears in the cosmic fabric surrounding your fate, it didn’t matter.  The response was too visceral for him to ignore. Desperation clawed around the edges of despair, driving him to do the one he swore he never would.

 

_ Save her  _ he prayed.   _ Please.  It’s not her fault.   _

 

As with every other time he’d reached out to his father, silence was his only response.  

 

_ Don’t do this. Please don’t take her.  Don’t you dare.  _

 

A heavy stillness settled over the room, and his father’s presence never seemed more absent than it did in that moment.  

 

_ Stop ignoring us. _ **** _ Stop being such a coward.  Stop sitting on the sidelines and watching as we tear each other apart.  Just. Make. This.  _ **_Stop_ ** _.   _

 

In that moment, something broke.  It was like a dam bursting, but instead of flooding him with emotion, it seemed to suck everything away, leaving him empty.  The lifelessness in your eyes echoed inside him as your body went slack before crumpling to the ground. 

 

Had his father really brought him back for  _ this _ ?  Was this punishment for all the blasphemies he’d said about the absent entity since His abandonment?  Poetic justice wasn't a trait Gabriel and Raphael had magically acquired one day. They had been taught it by the very being that had created it.  It seemed too much of a coincidence that you would be the one thing in centuries Gabriel had denied himself only for him to then be denied  _ you  _ when seizing the opportunity for a second chance.  

 

_ Somebody.   _ **_Any_ ** _ body.  _ **_Please._ **

 

Because he didn’t have the strength to save you himself.  

 

As the silence stretched on it brought with it a crushing note of finality.  

 

“I am sorry, brother,” Raphael said, and he at least had the decency to sound like he meant it.  “But you made me do this.”

 

The statement pulled at Gabriel’s memory, sparking discord within the ashes of what had been a deeply-embedded, slow burning anger.  Lucifer had tried to blame him as well, right before the Special Snowflake stabbed him with his own blade.  _ Rude. _

 

This time, it wasn’t going to be so easy.  

 

When he had faced the devil, he’d been impassioned.  Dean had thrown his bitch fit, sure, but you had a way of inspiring him to do better,  _ be  _ better.  You were the reason he’d finally made his stand, emboldened determination mixing with his frustration at how short-sighted his family was, painting vivid hues that splashed righteous in intent.  

 

Now you were gone, and his failure was what had embers of that tiny spark igniting.  It was his family, however, that breathed life into the wrath expanding in his chest. It pushed outward, searing white hot over what Raphael had done to you, what Lucifer had done to him, and what his father had done to them all.  What could his father possibly know of love if He was too much of a coward to stand up for the very creations He claimed to cherish above all else? 

 

The final thought had his everything spreading like a wildfire, consuming the emptiness your loss created.

 

“Nobody makes us do anything.”  Danger whispered through his words, an eerie calmness beneath his tone that made his brother pause.

 

Raphael shouldn't have killed you.  You had been the only bargaining chip left on the table.  The most dangerous opponents were those with nothing left to lose.  Now,  _ no one _ would leave this room alive…. even if Gabriel survived.

 

He blinked forward, instantaneously closing the gap between them, before he grabbed his brother by the shirt and slammed him to the ground.  The impact had the foundation splintering, a spiderweb of cracks spreading out across the floor. He knelt down, driving his fist into the side of his brother’s face.  Again and again and  _ again _ .

 

He was vaguely aware his brother was letting himself get pummeled, not even attempting to fight back.  Gabriel really needed to have a conversation with his siblings about their warped sense of brotherly love.  

 

He had just gotten done redecorating Raphael’s face when his brother let out a burst of energy, knocking him back across the floor.  Gabriel lay there for a moment, the world swaying above him. By the time he sat up, his sibling had already healed himself.

 

“Are we finished?”  Raphael asked, and despite his stoic countenance, the patient veneer of his tone began to chip away, revealing hints of exasperation, as if Gabriel were no more than a child throwing a tantrum.

 

“Not even close,” Gabe growled, pulling himself back to his feet and charging again.  His brother was not content to sit back this time. Before the youngest could level another punch, the other archangel landed one of his own.  

 

Pain exploded across Gabriel’s jaw, the power behind the wallop staggering.  His vision faded for a moment and as it cleared, he found the floor rising rapidly to greet him. He barely got his hands up in time, preventing himself from falling straight onto his face. 

 

“Stay down.”

 

This was not a request.  He also knew his brother would get tired of toying with him sooner or later, but he was beyond logic at this point.  He just wanted it to be over; preferably after he tore Raphael apart. 

 

He pushed himself up to his knees, eyes glittering.  His brother simply sighed, patience vanishing altogether.   

 

“Stay  _ down.” _

 

“So what?” Gabriel demanded, spitting out a mouthful of blood.  “You can get a kick in while you’re at it?” He rose, drawing his blade and holding it up in front of him.  “Let’s finish this.”

 

As usual, his brother wasn’t playing fair.  

 

The words had barely left his mouth when an explosion of energy tore through him, forcing him down, as commanded.  Agony sang in a chorus of singed nerves and overstimulated tissue and it felt like every molecule of him had joined the choir.  He was barely able to flip himself over, eyes staring up at the ceiling as he waited for the pain to recede. 

 

“One more will likely end you,” Raphael warned.  “Concede.”

 

“I’ll consider it, if you bring her back,” Gabriel replied, as if he had even the smallest shred of  _ anything _ to bargain with. 

 

“You concede.  She stays dead.  That is the only way this ends.”

 

They were some of the world’s greatest creations.  Their strength and prowess was nearly unmatched in this universe.  So why the hell had his father thought it a good idea to give any of them such a dreadfully narrow mind to go with it?

 

Then again, out of all of them, Raphael had always seemed a little  _ rushed _ . 

 

“Well I think I’ll go with option B, which is where I tell you to eat me and no one lives happily ever after.”  Despite his bravado, failure lanced through him adding weight to a heart that was heavier than he’d ever admit. 

 

He couldn’t save you this time.  

 

He, too, would die.  

 

Raphael would restart the apocalypse and everything you’d both worked so hard to prevent would happen anyway.

 

He had only one card left to play, and chances were it wasn’t the best if you hadn’t already pulled it out of your sleeve.   

 

_ Cas, buddy, I know you’re busy.  I know she probably prayed to you six ways to Sunday and since you didn’t come, you’re either just as fucked as we are or tapping your inner douche.  Either way, you owe her, and if you think you don’t, we all owe her family, so drop what you’re doing and help. Please.  _

 

Nothing happened.  A heavy silence continued to fill the room, suffocating the last vestige of Gabriel’s hope. 

 

Every part of him protested as he sat up.  If the bastard was going to kill him (and he  _ was  _ going to have to for this to ever end), Raphael was going to have to look him in the eye when it happened, just like Lucifer had.  He didn't have enough strength to make it to his knees, though to be honest, he preferred not to go out on them anyway. On his ass seemed far more appropriate.  

 

He suddenly felt tired, the will to carry on dissipating like smoke in the wind.  Not just because he was fairly certain his brain had partially detached from its stem.  It was a bone deep weariness that lay within both essence and mind. He was so father damn tired of all the fighting, of his family being so divided that they were offing each other on yearly basis, of the stubbornness inherent in all of them and their refusal to see things any way but their own.  

 

Mostly, he was done with watching innocent people suffer and then being the one getting boned for doing what his father would have really wanted.  Gabriel didn’t have to do this alone, but it shouldn’t have been a surprise that that’s how he found himself.

 

_ Screw you too, dad, you pretentious f-- _

 

Raphael let out a bellowing yell as red-streaked silver suddenly pierced his stomach.  A flash of blue burst through his skin, grace spilling out from the wound.  _ Not alone _ , Gabriel realized, watching as the blade twisted painfully, causing the inner light to flare a little brighter before the weapon disappeared.  His brother dropped to his knees, face to face with him once more. 

 

“How’s that for symmetry, dick bag.” 

 

And that was the moment Gabriel believed his mind had finally fallen in on itself.  You couldn’t be there. The rest of the divine choir had pretty much given you both the middle finger.  Even then, it took a significant amount of power to resurrect a soul, something neither he nor his brother would have missed.  

 

Someone had managed it though, and your face sprang into view over over his brother’s shoulder.

 

You had never looked more beautiful to him.  

 

He could hear your heartbeat, steady and strong, the sound of your breath overlaying it as air drew in and out of your lungs.  Your mind was an angry tangle of emotions spilling out through your eyes that blazed with an absolute fury. More importantly, the energy so distinct to your life thrummed steadily around you, crossing the gap as if to reassure him you were real.   

 

Relief undid the tension in his body.  The fact that relief was _all_ he could feel was a testament to just how fried he was, and he almost tipped over without the threat of imminent death to keep him propped up.  

 

“Are you going to let this parasite finish this for you?” Raphael demanded. “At least have the decency to let me die with a little dignity.”

 

You gave a snort, caught somewhere between indignance and amusement.  “If it were up to me you’d die in pink lacy lingerie, garter belt, and five inch heels, so when future generations talked about the mighty Raphael, it would be based upon what you kept  _ beneath  _ the suit instead of the suit himself.”

 

Hearing those words leave your mouth, Gabriel now knew what he felt for you went beyond infatuation.  Not that he could admit it, but the mixture of elation and pride that swelled within him told him you were everything he could ever want and your mouth had quickly rise to the very top of that list.

 

“Brother,” Raphael snarled, lips pulling back until the tips of his teeth gleamed ferally.  Your jab hit its mark, striking the archangel’s ego, rage exploding across his features, and Gabriel could have kissed you for it.  

 

The smirk on your face suggested it was, indeed, for his benefit and no doubt a little for yours. 

 

“You shut up,” you commanded, pressing the blade against the back of his neck with warning.  “You’re done talking unless spoken to.”

 

Raphael didn’t appreciate _ that _ comment any more than the first, but he wisely closed his mouth.  

 

“How you doing, champ?” You asked, the edge receding from your voice only to appear on your features as you looked him over.  Your lips tugged down in a frown, your grip on his brother’s shoulder tightening. Did he really look that bad?

 

“I think I have another round or two left in me,” he smiled, taking a moment to spit out some of the blood that continued to trickle down the back of his throat.  “Looks worse than it is, I’m sure.”

 

“It looks exactly like someone smote the shit out of you,” you told him before turning back to Raphael.   **“** Heel.” You released him with a rough shove and stepped away, giving him a wide berth as you made your way back to Gabriel.  

 

“You may be the the brains, but I can see who got all the charm,” he drawled, reaching up to accept the hand you extended.  The tips of his fingers tingled as they met yours, your energy tangible and somehow stronger than before as it burst through the barrier of his skin.  

 

Unbeknownst to him, his smile brightened before becoming completely wrecked when you decided to pull him upwards.  He winced, everything inside him protesting the movement. The world suddenly became a Tilt-A-Whirl, his brain dancing in tiny circles around and around, while the rest of him felt like it was doing one giant loop of its own.  He lurched sideways, and you braceed yourself against him. 

 

It took a moment for the ground to grow steady, but once it did, he became aware of two things.  First, you were much stronger than you looked, his body leaning heavily against yours. Your shoulder bore most of his weight, your arm wrapped around him to keep him from pitching off in another direction.  

 

Then again, you did have abnormally large, disaster prone kin you had to help drag around.  

 

Second, Cas had  _ not  _ been the one to help you by the traces of foreign energy that lingered on your skin.  In fact he couldn’t sense  _ any  _ other angel on you.  It was almost as if --

 

He shook his head, refusing to finish the thought.    

 

“So what do we do with him?” You asked, eyes staring down at the glowering angel on the floor.  

 

If that wasn’t the million dollar question.  

 

“Answer me one thing,” Gabriel began, doing his best to shift some of his weight off you as he leveled a glare at his brother.  “What is it that makes me so shivvable? First Kali, then Lucy, and now you.” 

 

Really, he would love to know why the people he cared about were so willing to shish kebab his ass because he didn’t agree with them.

 

“I wasn’t going to kill you,” Raphael sighed, that ever patient and ever exasperated tone returning.  

 

“So that whole  _ you’re either with me or against me _ bullshit was just a little crazy in my ear?” Gabriel demanded.  “Perhaps all those smitings were what you consider hugs these days because daddy didn’t give you enough?”  

 

“Leave our father out of this,” his brother warned.  “It has nothing to do with him.”

 

“Your right.  It’s not about him  _ or _ us.  It should be about them.  This is  _ their _ world.   _ Their _ lives.  They deserve better than this and we are better than this.”

 

“ _ We _ are better than them,” Raphael bellowed, grunting in pain before he dropping forward onto his hands, blood oozing from his lips.  

 

“Are we?”  Gabriel demanded.  

 

For once, the douchebaguette didn’t argue.  Raphael spit out a mouthful of dark liquid, eyes remaining down somewhere around his knees.  

 

“How did we get here?” He asked, head craning up as he looked at Gabriel, his anger diminished.  “We were family once.”

 

“You’re still family, dickhead,” you broke in.  “And if you could all stop fighting to take over the world for five minutes, maybe you’d realize that.”

 

You were right.  They were all wrapped up in their own little causes, all so concerned with whether they got their version of paradise, that it wasn’t about anyone other than themselves.

 

Raphael pointedly ignored you, though he did seem to be contemplating something as he paused for a few moments.

 

“I… am sorry,” he said, almost sounding surprised.  Gabriel imagined it had been awhile since any of his siblings had to apologize for anything, let alone felt any of the finer sentiments surrounding that gesture.  It was then that he saw just how weary the archangel really was. 

 

At this point, killing the jerk would be a mercy.  

 

“Yeah, well… it looks like you’re going to have to fight this war on your own,” he announced.

 

Gabriel had never claimed to be a merciful man.  Peace was the last thing he was going to grant the bastard after what he did to you, confirming, once again, they were  _ not _ the better beings.  

 

“For someone so angry at our father’s absence, you also have a tendency to abandon us.” Raphael’s features snapped shut, hardening as he retreated behind that inner wall.  

 

Apparently Luce wasn’t the only one that needed to learn how to deal with disappointment.   

 

“I _never_ abandoned anybody,” Gabriel growled, the barb hitting more of a nerve than he expected.  “None of you may have cared what happened to each other, but I did. I left because I couldn’t stand to see you all tear each other apart anymore.”

 

“Don’t lecture me on caring!” Raphael snarled then grimaced, pain flaring into his features.  “We have always cared for you, no matter how far you strayed.” 

 

“Then where were you on the night I was getting stuck more times than a pig at a luau?”  He shouted. He didn’t want to admit how much it stung. He and Kali had been good once. More than good.  They’d been  _ great  _ and if she had only been able to reign in that temper of hers more (and he hadn’t had the need to be an antagonizing dick when she couldn’t) they might have made it.  

 

That and the whole part where she ate people indiscriminately.  He would have preferred she stick to the real douches of the world but she just couldn’t turn down a well roasted virgin.  

 

And Lucifer… well, he was the devil for a reason.  Although at least he had the decency to look upset over the whole thing where Raphael simply looked put out by another task.  

 

“We  _ were  _ there,” Raphael insisted, voice strained.  “Michael and I, watching with a heavy heart.  Did you not see us in the end?”

 

Great.  Now he wasn’t sure who he was pissed at more.  Lucifer, for actually killing him, or his other brothers, for standing around holding each others’ dicks while it happened.  And Raphael thought  _ he  _ was the one that took after their father?

 

“I thought we were dysfunctional,” you muttered, shaking your head.  “Compared to you, we’re the fucking Brady Bunch.” 

 

Disgust was not something you often used.  At the moment, however, you sounded like there was nothing more distasteful than having to continue enduring his brother’s presence.  

 

“Are you going to let her speak to me that way?” 

 

Gabriel resisted the urge to roll his eyes.  Everything always seemed to come back to a matter of pride.  Would it have killed his father to have given them a little more humility?  

 

He gave his brother a wholly fake and wholly satisfying smile.  “Last I checked, they were free to do as they please.”

 

“You leave me no choice, you realize,” the older archangel continued.  

 

Sadness weighed at his lips, tarnishing the defiant gleam in gold.  “No one makes us do anything.”

 

He almost pitied his brother, being stuck in such a narrowly-defined world that there was little room to breathe, let alone let his wings down.  No wonder the guy was such a jaded prick. What hope did he have of fulfillment if he didn’t allow himself anything to enjoy?

 

“This isn’t over.”  Surprisingly, there was no malice behind his brother’s tone.  No slow simmering resentment. No impassioned grudge at the defeat.  If anything, this scenario had played out so many times it was a simple courtesy in Raphael’s eyes.     

 

“Yeah.  I figured as much,” Gabriel sighed, having hoped his brother might see reason, but never really expecting it.  “Do yourself a favor and stop trying to destroy the world. Go find yourself some hobbies. Have a drink. Have  _ eighty _ .”

 

Because Gabriel wasn’t the only one that could benefit from a liquor store.

 

“Go take one of your spirited groupies helping channel all that divine energy to smite my ass on a date somewhere nice and preferably uninhabited by humans.  See the MoMA once your bloodlust has settled…” Gabriel was only partially joking. “There’s an entire world of possibilities out there.” 

 

His brother continued to look as he’d rather set the world on fire.  

 

At least Gabriel could say he tried.

 

“The one thing I recommend you  _ don’t _ do, however, is  _ ever  _ come near her again.  You have a score to settle with me? We’ll settle it, but you leave her out of it.”  Because the next time anything came near you he was smiting first and asking questions later.  

 

“If he’s smart, he’ll stay away from both of us,” you warned, eyes glittering with danger.  Anyone else and it might have been an empty threat, but your family had managed the impossible before.  Perhaps killing an archangel wasn’t that out of the question. 

 

Raphael glared up at both of you, determination hardening his gaze.  “Brothers, to me!”

 

A half-dozen figures suddenly blinked in behind him and for a moment all Gabriel could do was stare.

 

That  _ sonofabitch.  _

 

The sudden additions to the party had you nearly dropping him back on his ass.  He managed to snag the back of your coat, steadying himself as you put yourself between him and the angels who looked more than ready to carve themselves a slice of Gabriel pie.  Two immediately went to Raphael’s side, gripping him by the arm. 

 

“Come back with them both alive or don’t come back at all,” the archangel gave his orders, legs dangling as they hoisted him off the floor.  Well at least the  _ alive  _ part was an improvement, though Gabriel didn’t want to think too closely on what his brother might now have in store.  

 

He felt a little relief as the pair disappeared, dragging his brother with them.  The odds of taking out six in his state were abysmal but four? Four was possible.  Provided you didn’t stumble too far into Winchester territory (see also: _idiot hero_ ) and prevent him from being any help whatsoever.  

 

He moved around you, putting himself shoulder to shoulder with you as he steadied his stance.  

 

“Well, boys, how does it feel to know you’re never going home again?”  He said more smugness than he really felt. Appearances were important, after all.  Numbers, on the other hand, were everything, and when four more arrived as backup, he could feel his mask beginning to slip.  

 

_ Well… fuck. _  Your thought skittered, unbidden, across his brain.  He couldn’t have said it better himself, because it looked like his ship was going down no matter what.  

 

_ Would have been nice if I could’ve at least put my tongue in her mouth this time _ he thought.  It might have also been nice if someone could have just brought you back outside the danger zone instead of at ground zero with him.  Again he felt himself on the edge of the riptide of  _ what had even been the father damn point _ ?  

 

Whoever was on this little resurrection spree needed to work on their long-term strategy.  

 

Regret pushed its way up his throat, causing it to tighten.  The bitterness of it invaded his mouth, taste buds flaring with the all too familiar flavor.  There was so much left to say, and what time he’d had to voice any of it had been squandered once again by his own fears and insecurities.  

 

He raised his blade, using guilt to help him find the last bits of energy as he channeled it in front of him.  The angel closest took a step forward, body bouncing back as it came into contact with something solid and completely invisible.  

 

“I’ll contain them as long as I can,” he told you, trying to stay focused on maintaining the wall.  He wouldn’t draw this out for you. You needed every second he could give if you were going to survive.  You would walk out that door unharmed, and he could live with that. Or die with it, as the case would seem.    

 

The tiniest niggle worked away at the back of his mind.   _ Wrong  _ it whispered.   _ All wrong _ .  

 

Then again, maybe it wasn’t.  Maybe he was never meant to leave this room and the universe was simply making sure it didn’t happen.

 

“Can you hold them long enough for me to get a sigil up?”  You asked. Sure he could. The only problem with that is that it would completely tap out his reserves, making it likely that he would end up as a smear on the wall once  _ that _ bomb went off.  

 

Yet, it was a better idea than you running.  There was no way to know if you still had the warding on your ribs now that you’d died.  Blasting the cavalry clear across the state was a much safer and more effective option. 

 

“Anything for you, cupcake,” he told you, flashing what he hoped was a reassuring smile. 

 

Desperation spurred his impulsivity, causing him to place his free hand against the side of your face. He stroked his thumb over your skin, savoring the smoothness of it and the chaotic hum of your energy as so many things flitted across your features.    

 

“Gabe -” You began, brow furrowing, but he couldn’t let you say anything.  If he told you it was going to be ok, he would be lying, and that was something he wasn’t willing to do, not as the last interaction he’d ever share with you.

 

“Go,” he insisted, thumb easing down along the edge of your lips, trailing beneath them before his fingers gently grasped you by the chin.  He pulled you forward, mouth caressing over yours in a brief kiss. 

 

_ It’s better this way _ he thought as he released you.  You stared at him a moment, gaze narrowed in what appeared to be suspicion. Your hand fell to his shoulder, and you dipped closer, breath ghosting over his ear as you gave him your parting message.  

 

“Don’t do anything stupid, Goldilocks,” you warned.  

 

Unfortunately, stupid tended to be the only plan in the playbook when it came to you.  

 

Fortunately, maintaining an invisible barrier until he ran out of steam and getting stabbed to death was pretty idiot proof.  

 

Raphael’s men waited.  Most of them looked nonplussed.  Some looked a little put out. The one in center who had gotten a face full of energy, however, looked pissed.  He was going to be Gabriel’s ticket to not giving his brother what he wanted, because being taken alive wasn’t an option.  

 

If there was anything he considered worse than death, it was being caged.  

 

An alarm went up in the back of his mind, bells ringing shrilly with the message  _ abort, abort, abort,  _ signifying his mojo was a lot lower than he realized.  It would be hard fighting his natural instinct to stay alive.  Eventually his grace would override his mind and cut off the flow before he expended it all.  

 

He began to chant in Enochian, the words helping draw out his energy with less conscious thought.  He could feel his essence tugging back against the spell, trying to latch onto something,  _ anything _ **_,_ ** to keep him from ripping it completely out and tearing his lifeforce with it.   

 

As his energy continued to flag, his barrier stood strong.  His inner wall, however, was beginning to take a hit. Sanity retainer, he’d called it, because it helped keep the the more humanesque qualities like _feeling_ and _sentimentality_ separate.  In his experience, the only thing they’d been good for was clouding his logic and putting a damper on all the fun.  

 

Memories came tumbling through it, smacking him soundly in the face.  The sound of your laugh. The  _ real  _ one, not that good humored chuckle you often gave to be polite.  It was the unexpected bark that hastily faded to silence, hand pressed over your mouth, until you could no longer contain it and genuine mirth spilled over your lips.  

 

Oh sweet father those lips… on more than one occasion he was certain _they_ would be the death of him.  The way teeth would flash out, tugging at the bottom as you chewed thoughtfully.  Never had an innocent gesture seemed so seductive. Just like the noises you’d make when he brought you some new delectable treat. 

 

There was a reason he went out of his way to get you to try new things. 

 

When he brought your favorites though, those were to see that little flash of delight that brightened your dark eyes, sparking an appreciative touch or smile reserved only for him.  It was in those moments where the weight seemed to melt away along with universe, and for a few brief moments there was only the two of you. Those were the ones he lived for.

 

It was fitting for them to be the last things on his mind before he died.

 

He could feel the world retreating, darkness inking around his consciousness.  He dropped to his knees, a grunt momentarily breaking his chant. The barrier flickered and he readied himself, preparing one final push.  

 

_ Catch you on the flipside, sweetheart.   _

 

“Cas _now_!”  Desperation laced your shout that barely registered through the darkness.  Instead of fading back into the nothingness he recalled, the scene melted away in a blur, replaced with a white light that momentarily blinded him.  Just as quickly as it appeared, it blinked out from left to right, until only a dull glow remained around the edges. 

“Gabriel, can you hear me?”  A distant, gravelly voice floated through the haze.  He vaguely became aware of something on his shoulder along with what felt like a stream of energy releasing through the firm pressure.  With it came a slow creeping coldness and a shudder rippled through his veins as the world suddenly snapped back into view.

 

He blinked once, twice, trying to get his eyes to focus.  His vision cleared and he realized the intense brightness surrounding him wasn’t light, but the pure, unblemished whiteness of his surroundings.  He couldn’t tell where anything began or ended, the floor, ceiling, and walls all one infinite surface. He knew this place as certainly as he knew the figure standing before him.

 

He’d never forget his younger brother or his home, no matter how long he went without seeing either.  Relief flooded him. If Cas was there then that meant he had heard his prayer. You were safe. He could rest.  Everything would be ok. 

 

Everything changed when he noticed that the party was one member short.  

 

“What did you do?” He demanded, panic tightening his chest, nearly closing off his throat. 

 

“Relax.  This was her idea,” Cas informed him.

 

Well  _ that _ didn’t make him feel any better.  The second most frequent activity the Winchesters engaged in was playing the martyr, and that was a  _ very close second  _ to making a mess in the sandbox.   

 

It also didn’t help that his sibling didn’t appear very composed himself.  

 

The angel began to pace, taking short nervous steps in one direction before deciding to go back to where he’d been.  He froze, as if realizing the contradiction between message and action before running a hand through already disheveled hair.   

 

“We need to go back,” Gabriel insisted.

 

“We need to follow the plan,” his brother ordered, his voice rough and more than a bit irritable as he watched the archangel try to stand.  He placed a firm hand on Gabriel’s shoulder. “Stay down.”

 

Anger exploded through his veins, tainting amber until it practically glowed.  If Gabriel heard that phrase one more time, he was going to use what little energy he had left to snap the culprit out of existence.  Which is what he might do anyway, if Cas kept him from helping you before whatever you’d pulled out of your barrel of crazy this time blew up in your face.  

 

“You need to rest.  You were very close to tearing out all of your grace.  I was able to heal you somewhat, but I do not have much energy to spare.”

 

Gabriel wasn’t the only one in need of a breather.  Weary lines had formed along the angel’s face, and there were even dark circles beneath his eyes.  It took a lot for a vessel to show physical signs of fatigue, suggesting that whatever was happening had been going on for some time.  

 

That or his brother was  _ really  _ letting himself go.

 

“You know Raphael is trying to restart the apocalypse,” Cas stated more than asked.  His gaze fell to the archangel, hard and appraising.

 

Gabriel mustered a sardonic smile.  “Yeah. Kind of got that memo.” 

 

“And your stance on it?”  

 

What was this? Interrogation number two?

 

“Does it _look_ like I’m on the same page as him?” He hissed, his tone implying that statement ended with an unspoken _duh_.

 

“You do realize that makes you a danger to her, right?” The sudden change in conversation had his mind reeling.  “That until this war is over, Raphael will stop at nothing to sway you, and her suffering will be paramount should he believe she means anything to you.”  

 

Truth echoed within his brother’s words, but something about it rang a little hollow.  Cas was right; he was a danger to you, and Raphael undoubtedly would use you in terrible ways to get to him, but the thought of leaving you had every piece of him clamoring in resistance.  Though, that might have more to do with the jealousy that ignited at how much the angel focused on _you_ now that Dean was out of the picture. 

 

Gabriel had never seen his younger brother so impassioned about anything.   _ Cool cat Cas  _ he would tease because of how stunted the angel’s emotional range seemed.  Apparently ending the apocalypse had been a major bonding point for everyone.

 

“If you care about her at all, you will stay away from her.”  The look he received suggested this was not a recommendation.

 

“Funny.  You hardly gave her a second look during the apocalypse.  Why care what happens to her now?” 

 

It was true.  It had been about the chosen ones, their brother’s vessels.  More than once Gabriel had been the one to pluck your hide from the fire because none of the other divine dickheads gave a damn.

 

“Because the world needs her.”  Cas always had a way of making something complicated sound like such a simple truth.  Truth, however, came with a certain amount of confidence that only came from knowledge, which begged the question: did his brother know something he didn’t?

 

The blue eyed man squinted, head tilting slightly as his gaze drifted up, focusing on nothing in particular.  He expelled a breath, tension releasing from his frame. Relief had those lines etching a little deeper, however, making Gabriel worry about just what kind of news Cas was receiving.  

 

“It’s time,” the angel announced, gripping his shoulder tight once more.


	7. Chapter 7

Sometimes when you least expect it, you get saved… but it wasn’t always by the ones who should have been helping you.  

 

“Where the hell were you?” You demanded as Cas and Gabriel appeared back in sight, your eyes blazing as you pinned the former with a dangerous look.  

 

You had no idea where Cas’ ass had been that entire time.  The moment Raphael had returned you had prayed for help, knowing the look on Gabriel’s face had not been a sign this was a happy family reunion.  

 

Yet, your friend never came.  

 

He never came when you told him you were face to face (or more accurately, neck to hand) with an archangel who looked seriously intent on taking a chunk out of you.  

 

He never came when you felt a part of you being carved out as Raphael forced his grace inside you, the electrifying, detached energy tearing through your very being and making you feel as if you were being split into a million pieces.  

 

He never came when desperation choked the words in your throat as Gabriel was pummeled with the holy light of heaven’s purest bedtime prayers, or whatever the shit smites were made out of.  

 

And he certainly never came when you had a goddamn gun _ pressed against your head.  _   Though you might have been beyond coherent thought at that point.  Still, your connection to 1-800-dial-an-angel should have kept your so-called friend informed of your ongoing 

situation, which involved the most elevated level of fear you’d felt since you’d all gone toe-to-toe with the devil.  

 

So when things escalated once again, and you found yourself hip deep in winged dicks with awful odds, you sent up the prayer of all prayers.   _ So help me, Cas, if Gabriel dies because you bailed on me, I have at least a dozen ideas on how to deal with you, all of which involve the business end of an angel blade.     _

 

It was a little dramatic, sure, but Gabriel was not dying.  Not here. Not again, and  _ especially  _ not because of you.  Cas was lucky you didn’t stab him on sight after the smite-fest Gabriel endured.  The only reason you weren’t roasting some feathers and letting the archangel bring the marshmallows was because the seraphim had pulled through for you at the last moment.  

 

It didn’t make you any less angry at him, however. 

 

“I came as soon as I could,” Cas informed you, a little testier than usual.  A red flag popped up in the back of your mind, waving casually back and forth.  Why he, of all things this evening, would be the one to trigger it was beyond you. 

 

Unfortunately it was like waving red at an already raging bull.

 

“Well it wasn’t soon enough,” you hissed as you jabbed him hard in the chest.  How dare he sound put out after what you and Gabriel had gone through.

 

He brought his hand up, fingertips brushing gently against your side.  Coldness washed outward from his touch, and you shuddered as his grace pushed through your skin.  It wasn’t an inherently unpleasant sensation, but after Raphael’s invasion, feeling any of them beneath your skin was disconcerting.  

 

He must have been searching for wounds, and his eyes narrowed intently when he didn’t find any.  He must have taken a moment to slip in a little mojo sedative, however. At least you assumed he did, by the way you were no longer considering the best place to stab him that wasn’t guaranteed to kill him, but still might.  

 

“And you,” you said, rounding on the archangel and giving him a poke of his own.  “You need to look up the definition of  _ stupid _ .”

 

“Glad to see you too, babycakes,” he said, sarcasm splashing through words, though the smile he gave appeared to be genuine.  You could tell by the way his dimples appeared. Usually those made whatever he was trying to achieve that much more successful, but you were having none of that right now, no matter how endearing he looked.

 

“We should leave this place,” Cas interjected eyes glancing around warily.  

 

That was the best plan you’d heard all night.  

 

The angel didn’t even wait for you to agree.  He grabbed you both by the shoulders, and your stomach lurched as a familiar rush whooshed through you.  You weren't sure you’d ever get used to that feeling. It was like riding the world’s longest roller coaster in the span of a second.  

 

It took a moment for your head to catch up, but once it did, you found yourself back in your hotel room.  Everything from the candles to the balloons had disappeared, leaving no evidence of the evening’s previous events.  Gabriel eyed the room warily, no doubt sweeping it for signs of danger. Cas, on the other hand, just eyed him.

 

“Our father could not have brought you back at a better time,” the dark-haired angel said.

 

Then there was  _ that  _ little matter.  Raphael had prattled on and on about the heaven’s burning, about war, taking sides,  _ paradise _ .  For a little while you had forgotten what year you were in, because it sounded awfully like the apocalypse was still on the agenda despite your family having put the kibosh on it.  

 

“Would someone like to tell me what the hell is going on upstairs?” You demanded, arms folding over your chest.  

 

“We are at war,” Cas began.  “When Sam took Michael to the cage with him, Raphael stepped in to take his place as Heaven’s leader.  He, like his brother, is a traditionalist and believes that the story must end the way that it was written.”

 

You swallowed.  Your cup was feeling awfully full at the moment.  You weren’t sure you could handle being told all those sacrifices had been for nothing, in addition to dealing with the rest of the crazy that was flying around.

 

“Are you saying… it isn’t over?” Your voice had gotten quiet, nervousness edging into your words.    

 

“If I have any say in it, it is,” he promised.  “There are others like me who believe we have the right to choose our own ending and that is why we’re fighting.  For your freedom and ours.” 

Not just a war.   _ Cas’  _ war.  

 

No wonder he’d vanished.  The man was carrying the fate of Heaven  _ and  _ Earth on his shoulders.  

 

“ _ You’re  _ the one leading the resistance?” Gabriel demanded, and you weren’t sure what was more surprised, the angel or his eyebrows with how they nearly shot clear off his browline.  “Way to go, little bro.” 

 

You slowly lowered yourself onto the dresser, giving your mind a moment to catch up.  Your brain took in the new information, kicking it around for a few moments, before throwing up its hands and reminding you this was all way above your pay grade.  

 

Your hand slipped into your coat pocket, fingers tracing over the contour of your cell before you realized you only had one person left that you could call.  Bobby was as much your family as your brothers, but it wasn’t his voice that was going to keep you from getting caught in the ever increasing riptide. Dean was the only one left who knew how to bring you back from the brink, and he was no longer an option.  

 

“You alright, cupcake?” Gabriel asked, sitting down next to you.  The subtle brush of fingers across your back brought more comfort than you wanted to admit.  You looked over, surprised to find his features heavily shuttered. 

 

A guarded archangel was never a good sign.  

 

“Yeah, just…” You paused, hair on the back of your arms rising.  Unconsciously you reached up to your neckline, tugging on your sweater.  Was the room getting smaller? Because it felt like everything around you was suddenly shrinking.  You forced yourself to take a breath, focusing on the way your heart responded to the slow inhalation before you released it normally. 

 

“It’s a lot to take in,” you finished, your chest feeling heavy, as if there wasn’t much air to take in at all.  Your phone became forgotten as a dissonance danced along your spine, sending signals to your muscles to stiffen. Your nerves tingled as if you were back in that tiny interrogation room, your mind trying to rectify the difference between what you felt and the spacious accommodations you saw. 

 

“Understandably so,” Cas said sympathetically, though his compassion fell short, overlooking the tension tightening your frame as he continued to vomit Heaven’s issues all over you.   “You should know, however, that things are not going well. Strategically we have the advantage, but we are outnumbered. All Raphael has to do is outlast us. We need something to give us an edge, something to turn the tide enough to break his ranks or take him out of play.” 

 

“Like another archangel.”  Gabriel said flatly.

  
“An archangel would be helpful,” Cas admitted, “But that is your decision to make, brother.”

 

While it didn’t surprise you that the the third member of Team Free Will would advocate for just that, Gabriel seemed suspicious.  Considering the last few encounters he’d had with his family, you couldn’t blame him. 

 

By the way Cas turned to you and said, “It is your help I really need,”  you would have thought  _ he’d _ had the sense smited out of him earlier, because what in the Virgin Mary’s pure and pious pants were you supposed to do about anything?

 

“And in turn,” the seraphim went on, as if making complete sense, “I would be able to help you.”

 

Hope sparked fierce in your chest, burning through the oxygen in your lungs, and for a moment you couldn’t breath.  It no longer mattered what it was he thought you could offer or that you knew better than to make deals with otherworldly beings.  This was the break you were waiting for. 

 

“You found a way to get Sam out?”  You almost hadn't dared to ask. A let down of that magnitude after everything else would be crushing, and you weren’t certain you had enough left in you to survive that.

 

Your friend paused a moment, his eyes narrowing on you.  

 

“Sam has been free for months now,” he told you, features becoming a contrast of hard edges and sympathetic blue orbs.  “I thought you knew.”

 

Free?  Sam was free?  How the  _ shit  _ could that be possible? 

 

“That - that can’t be right.”  You almost laughed at the absurdity of it.  Sam couldn’t be out. If there was anyone he would have called, it would have been you.  He would have called  _ somebody _ .    

 

Unless... it wasn’t Sam that crawled out of there.  

 

“I’m sorry.  I don’t know what to say except that he is, and it  _ is _ him,” he continued as if reading your thoughts.  Any other angel you would have suspected, but it was Cas.  He must have known that’s where your mind would go. Besides, he _ knew better _ .

 

But if you could trust him, then that meant…

 

“Oh my god,” you breathed.

 

Somebody was in for a royal ass kicking as soon as you found him.

 

Your shoulders hunched, your body giving beneath the weight of all the knowledge suddenly spinning around in your head.  You were thankful to be already sitting as you felt the strength leave your system. The blows just kept coming, and at this rate it wouldn’t be long before your brain was completely beaten to a stump.

 

Your pocket began to buzz, the furious movement causing you to jump as the vibrations danced across your leg.  You pulled it out to find Bobby’s name flashing across the front of the screen. 

 

A thought, unbidden, skittered across your consciousness: what if Cas wasn’t the only one who knew?

 

You immediately dismissed the notion as crazy.This was Bobby.  He wouldn’t keep something like this from you. Yet, you couldn’t help but answer the call, vaguely aware of something shifting in the angel’s stare.

 

“Christ on a cracker,” Bobby grumbled, exasperation adding an extra bite to his words, “What the hell is your --”

 

“Is Sam out?” You cut him off, desperation infringing on the even tone you tried to keep.  You weren’t sure what answer you needed to hear more at the moment: your brother was alive or your personal circle of trust was still in tact. 

 

The silence that followed told you all you needed to know.   

 

“You mean he  _ still  _ hasn’t told you?” Bobby asked, just as taken aback as you were.  Your heart dropped deep within your stomach. You suddenly felt sick, disbelief preventing you from reacting right away and a pregnant, laden silence fell between you.   

 

“Fuck, Bobby!”  You finally found your voice, though it grew thick as the floodgates reopened.  You wanted to cry. You wanted to celebrate. You wanted to scream at Bobby  _ and _ your brother for joining the running for douche of the year because  _ what the actual shit _ ?

 

“Why do you think I’ve been calling so much?  To schedule tea?” He retorted. 

 

“How long?” You demanded, proud of how you managed to keep your voice from wavering despite the stinging sentiments gathering along your lashline.  

 

“I dunno… five months?”  He had the decency to sound chagrined, but it was lost within the rising tide of your anger. 

 

Five months.  

 

Five fucking months without a word from either of them.  

 

“Listen, kid, this isn’t the type of thing you just drop in a voicemail…” 

 

Oh yes it fucking was.  That was exactly what you did after the first few days. That or you GPSd their ass and showed up on their doorstep, which was exactly what Dean would’ve done in this situation.  

 

Oh God,  _ Dean _ .  Did  _ he  _ know?  

 

No.  There was  _ no _ way.  He would never have kept that information from you.  

 

Then again, five minutes ago you would have said the said the same thing about Sam and Bobby.  

 

“Dean?” You couldn’t fully say it, as if somehow not breathing life into the fear would somehow prevent it from ever being true.  

 

“I may be an idjit, but I’m not an ass,” he grumbled.  

 

Well  _ that _ was certainly debatable.

 

Relief swept in, brushing aside the dread that had overtaken everything.  

 

“He deserves to know,” you insisted, fingers digging into your eyes as you realized you would  have to be the one to tell him. More than just the news was going to get broken if Bobby was the one delivering the message.  

 

“What that kid deserves is a chance to be normal.  Happy. Not to die bloody and alone, like the rest of us will.”  You were taken back by the vehemence in his tone and you couldn’t remember the last time he sounded so fired up about anything.  “And if it were up to me, your life wouldn’t be any different.”

 

Was he asking you to do what you thought he was?

 

“But I know you,” he continued, a deep-seated weariness entering his voice.  “I know what runs in your blood won’t ever settle for normal. But you of all people know, choosing this life means sacrificing to protect the ones who  _ are  _ normal, and as far as I’m concerned, Dean’s one of those people now.”  

 

Christ, you couldn’t touch this right now.  You couldn’t even begin to know what you were going to do with the knowledge that Sam was alive and Dean didn’t know.  Your cup was no longer overflowing, it had overflowed, tipped over, and you were all but drowning in the liquid that continued to spill out from it.

 

“I’ll call you back,” you managed, your inner reserves flagging.  You didn’t give him the chance to say anything else before you disconnected the call.  Your finger dug into the power button, pressing against it insistently, and you resisted the urge to throw the damn thing across the room.

 

If only you could make the rest of your problems disappear that easily. 

 

Your head dropped forward, fingers gripping the edge of the dresser, and you did your best to contain your emotions.  As it was, the only thing you seemed able to hold in at the moment was the air in your lungs.

 

“Breathe,” Gabriel reminded after a few moments, gently squeezing your shoulder.  You brought your hands up, palming at your eyes as you felt a few tears squeeze their way loose.

 

“You’re upset,” Cas’ gruff voice moved closer to you.  

 

“I’m exhausted,” you told him, weariness weighing down your words.  “I had the worst sleep of my life this morning, I woke up feeling like  _ I’d _ been on the receiving end of a good smite,  _ and _ returned to a place I never wanted to set foot in again,  _ twice, _ because someone decided to drop a crumb for me to follow without telling me it led to the middle of a fucking angel war and that my brother  _ has been out of the cage for months now. _ ”  

 

“I don’t understand.  How does a fragment of food lead to anything other than bugs?” Cas asked, perplexed.  

 

You looked up, glaring at him through a thin curtain of hair.  You might have laughed if you weren’t so done with  _ everything _ .

 

“The news story story, Cas,” you sighed, pinching the bridge of your nose.   _ Hard _ .  

 

“What story?” He asked, confused.  

 

“What do you mean _what_ _story_?” The sound of your patience finally snapping came out as a snarl in your throat.  “I prayed to you in Massachusetts and you put on the local news for Indiana in my hotel room so I would know there was a powersurge and check it out.”

 

“I was never in your hotel room,” he told you.  “I heard your prayer, but I was in the middle of battle and couldn’t respond.”  

 

You swallowed, both you and Cas’ shifting your gazes to Gabriel.

 

“Don’t look at me,” the archangel said, putting his hands up in front of him.  “If I’d have been there, I’d have sent you in the opposite direction.”

 

Said the man who had been horribly desperate to get into your pants not even an hour ago.  

 

There were shit ways to be told you were just a mistake and then, apparently, there was Gabriel’s way.  

 

“Your inner archangel is showing,” you told him, anger varnishing your sarcasm as your stare began to burn.  “You may want to look into that.”

 

He stiffened at the remark, eyes darting briefly to the other angel then back to you.  You expected some flippant comment, maybe a smart ass retort that was also somehow endearing.  His silence, however, spoke volumes.

 

“It must have been Raphael.  He must have followed you here,” Cas interrupted, concern spilling over into his voice.  

 

“Why the hell would Raphael be following me?” You rounded on him.  You were sick of being left in the dark about things, and you had a distinct feeling there was far more of Heaven’s problems spilling onto you than anyone had let on.

 

Then again, you were also sick of this night and wanted nothing more than for it to just be over.  

 

“Because, like your brothers, you were meant to fulfill a greater purpose.  While they were meant to bring about war, you, I believe, are a catalyst to do the opposite,” your friend explained.  By the look on his face, he was gearing up for something. Something that was likely to make your brain fall in on itself.  Something you guaranteed you neither had the time nor patience for. 

 

“Wait,  _ what _ ?” Gabriel broke in, as if that was the last piece of insanity he could handle.

 

“Cas, I - I can’t even right now,” you warned, putting up a hand for him to stop.  

 

“What I’m about to tell you is important —”

 

“I mean it,” you continued, ignoring the manic light blazing within blue.   _ Not now. _

 

Either your friend was especially oblivious to the level of your distress, or he simply didn’t care.  He grabbed you by the shoulders, forcing you to hear out this final piece of information.

 

“Y/n… you’re a shepherd.”  


End file.
